#and i have a melody for 'i am a king's daughter' which sounds really lovely but i don't have chords yet bc music writing is hard

[giantkillerjack]

hi hi hi!!! So sorry if this is weird but im genuinely overjoyed that you liked the last unicorn so much!!!! It's one of my favorite films I love the score and the animation is SO pretty and Molly's "how DARE you" gets me Every Time. The book is very good too (more drama surrounding Haggard's downfall)!!! The story is so interesting to me and it's definitely a favorite in my family (alas, none of my friends seem to know it :[ ). Also!! https://youtu.be/M57VN_b9FRM is an incredible video about the film and its legacy!!!!!! I hope you have a good one!!!!

<3 <3 What a lovely sweet message! I look forward to watching that video, thank you! That is exactly the kind of content I love to watch!!

Molly's "how DARE you" is possibly my favorite moment in the whole book!!! <3 <3 <3 - It was the moment when I was going through the story where it like, truly slapped me in the face and went This Is Something Extremely Special And Rare Which You Have found.

Literally, the second Molly was first onscreen (I watched the movie first), I said out loud to no one, "Well, clearly this is the most interesting character in the movie, but she is an ordinary-looking middle-aged woman, and so of COURSE the narrative won't give this character her due." - AND THEN SHE JOINED THE PARTY AND BECAME A MAIN CHARACTER!!!! I was over the fucking moon!!! :D

Also, Christopher Lee as King Haggard? Be still my heart! What wonderful work!!!!

[ekmerald4]

It's even better considering the Saga starts with the most tame of all songs. In Suffering, we only see the *familiar* sides of Odysseus. His love for his wife, his wits in baiting the Siren into showing him the way to avoid Poseidon. So til this point, it's PRETTY MUCH safe territory where we're all like "Oh it's just good old Odysseus". Also, while it was pretty obvious that "Penelope" was a siren (at least to me), I like how it was made kind of believable putting aside the "Daughter" comment. You know, you WOULD expect Odysseus to become scared of the water at this point.

And then BAM, Different Beast. Notice how even putting aside the instrumental (which is brutal by the way), this man Is not just ruthless – one could argue he's *cruel*. He could have, you know, slit their throats. BUT NO. He *cut off the Sirens' tails* before throwing them to drown. Which was, well, brutal. (REALLY GOOD, but still, brutal.)

Scylla's voice? HELL YEAH. It was so good. Odysseus sounds So resigned by the beginning of Scylla. He's not even Trying to weasel his way as usual. He's not Trying to save anyone anymore. He's just ensuring his own survival. Just as Scylla says ("We must do what it takes to survive"/"We are the same"). His reaction to Eurylochus's confession was REALLY interesting. Honestly, it's possible that he just had a moment of "Well, considering I cannot even trust You anymore, I don't need to worry about you either, so just light up the torches already" since he was Already numb enough to not care. Still, considering his reaction later (when he tried to appease Eurylochus in Mutiny for a moment) I'd say he just didn't think it mattered anymore. He already placed the blame of what happened With Poseidon on his own mercy, so whoever opened the wind bag did not matter anymore.

Mutiny? Probably my second favorite song. Already starting with the same Melody as Luck Runs out, as if to say "This is the climax, this is where it peaks". Now Eurylochus's hypocrisy here is also really intriguing. Makes me wonder whether it was because of the argument Odysseus presented him with in Puppeteer? When he said "There's no length I wouldn't go, if it was You I had to save." When Eurylochus suggested they leave the other men behind. Basically, he realized that if Ody is going so far as to sacrifice their men, he would go so far as to sacrifice Eurylochus too at this point. And then "If you want all the power, you must take all the blame" Well Wellll, I'd say that sounds like Odysseus just taking the Reigns COMPLETELY, not involving Eurylochus, and basically just Eurylochus fearing for his life at this point because clearly Odysseus doesn't care about his Second in Command's opinion anymore, and he's a Different Beast now. (Or rather, Odysseus started doing what Eurylochus did before. Remember when he said "Let's just raid the place" in Full Speed Ahead? And then always assuming the worst and being cautious in "Luck Runs out"? And then "Let's cut our losses you and I and let's run"? Odysseus thinks like that now, so he no longer needs Eurylochus the way he did when he tried Polites's approach.) Eurylochus becoming so Damn hopeless that he cannot think rationally anymore ("Ody we're never getting back home" :() And they both just sound so damn shattered. Eurylochus almost out of it at this point, Odysseus desperate. I'M SURE YOU GET IT.

And then, Thunder Bringer? My favorite song! I adore it. It's perfect. Zeus in this Is just the definition of Divine indifference, so you CANNOT blame me for being obsessed, okay? Not when he sounds LIKE THAT. It's also So cool because it almost seems like Zeus is doing EXACTLY what Poseidon did, just with a different approach. Same lesson, different teaching techniques. Poseidon is one straightforward ruthless guy, Zeus is one manipulative little shit. I am still trying to figure out what he means when he speaks of Pride (Is it just a way to refer to Odysseus' pride as king and Captain? Something else?) But he's clearly doing something, I'd say. I mean he's giving him a choice but he's also steering him in a certain direction. "Why do I have a feeling they'd lose?" Coming from the King of the gods himself, the almighty all-knowing king of gods. Not His first time, by the way, considering he makes Odysseus feel like he has no choice in The Horse and the Infant when Technically he did IF NOT FOR HIM? Basically saying "You can do that, but then I'll doom your kingdom so". If not for his (and the Gods who join him in chorus) intervention, it would have been possible to spare the infant. So the choice was there, but Zeus (and the gods) got rid of it. Am I making sense? I hope so. Basically he gets Odysseus to do his bidding the first time by taking away his choice, and now he does the same by giving him the choice. Kind of ironic, considering deceit is Odysseus' field of expertise. He kind of starts the "Ruthlessness is Mercy" cycle and now he's insuring its completion. Then "King Of Ithaca", why Exactly would he feel the need to point that out THEN ESPECIALLY? Remind him of home, just randomly? Then, again, RANDOMLY Penelope appears in the sky, shrouded in golden light that kind of looks a bit too Zeussy. I mean, sure, it could have been a hallucination, but uhh (THAT HAPPENED IN THE STREAM? RIGHT?! I CANNOT FIND IT AND I AM REALLY HOPING THAT THE FACT I WAS WATCHING THE STREAM AT 3:30 AM DID NOT MAKE ME DELUSIONAL) But also, the way he's toying with Odysseus is just, well, not nice. Then the final piano :( It was so damn peaceful and sad and WHY.

GUYS EPIC THE THUNDER SAGA??????

Okay I'll try to break it down to songs, spoiler alert y'all

Suffering — I'll be singing this FOREVER I loved it so much, and I INSTANTLY KNEW THEY WERE SIRENS like Jay wouldn't miss the opportunity with the sirens to torment Ody with missing his wife.

Different Beast — I LOVE THIS THIS IS AMAZING. Also the fact that the crew was basically cheering Odysseus on for being "the monster" from now on, but as soon as being the monster meant sacrificing them too, they instantly turned on him. So like, being the monster was a good and nice thing, when it was to protect them, but then it suddenly becomes evil when it's used against them (I understand it, I just. Find it interesting.)

Scylla — SCYLLA'S VOICE??????? EXCUSE ME?Also THE FACT that right after admitting to opening the bag, Odysseus told Eurylochus to light six torches... Like. He kind of wants Scylla to do the dirty work?

Mutiny — OKAY I DIDN'T SEE THE CREW STABBING ODY FROM BEHIND, I DIDN'T SEE IT COMING BUT I LOVE IT... Also the reverse Luck Runs Out moment.

Thunder Bringer — I. I don't have any words. None at all. I love it. Every single note.

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || HIS LITTLE SONGBIRD

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna ft. itadori yuji and fushiguro megumi from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and light mention of alcohol  

| form : imagine (with she/her pronouns)

| word count : 2411

| published : 02 december

| request : I just finished reading Sukuna with so who good at singing and I love it❤️ After reading this, it makes me think of another possibility for reincarnation au. What if the so got reincarnated but instead of Sukuna actually met them in person, he found out that the so is now a famous singer, so their songs can be heard all over japan. Itadori went a store and their song was played which Sukuna realized it was his little song bird’s voice

| barista’s notes : hi hi guys~ sorry for the really late update today and that is because i fell asleep the second i got back home from school ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ classic barista violettelueur and what makes it lowkey worst is that it’s 2:20 am right now.....for a little information that might be helpful while reading this, i was listen to BLACKPINK - Don’t know what to do (JP Ver.) while writing this, so that is going to get a little mention on this imagine ʕ·ᴥ·　ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) have a wonderday day and please come back soon!

The sounds of the strings being plucked to construct a beautiful melody filled the spring air with its euphoric sound as the pale pink cherry blossom petals graceful fell from its branches giving a beautiful sight to behold, while the crowds of men in the garden celebrated with red sake plates in hand that was filled to the brim with the sweet alcohol that was being consumed in a rapid rate.

However, as much as the King of Curses wanted to disrupt the little gather for his own sadistic pleasure, the melody that was playing in the air captivated him to pause his wicked thoughts and desires and demanded him to appreciate the music the was being created by the lone female that was at the centre of the ocean of men - who were laughing drunkenly while some observed her from afar.

The lone female on her knees, while her eyes were set on the musical tool that was set in front of her, was delicately but masterfully plucking the thin transparent stings to create a tune that no other person within the gardens could recreate - not even the other talented musicians that were also present within the large garden. Eyeing the beauty that was charming almost everyone within her presence, the King of Curses slyly came closer (but out of sight) to gain a closer look at what was going on.

“Who is she?”

“She’s the only daughter from the prominent L/N family, they’re are known for their musical talents and from the rumours, that is certainly no lie,”

“Is she married? I can imagine having her playing for me every day with that beautiful melody,”

However, before one of the males of court nobility could even answer the question, an elegant but powerful voice echoed throughout the garden causing everyone to swiftly turn to the direction of the angelic voice, only to suddenly find that it was that lone female in the middle of the garden singing with the alluring tone that she had created herself - leaving everyone in a trance to the grace that was beautifully presented to them.

“I need to make her my wife,”

“I’m afraid that is easier said than done, my lord. From what has been going around, she has refused all of the men that have proposed their hand in marriage, there isn’t a reason that is known for this that can answer everyone’s confusion,”

“What do I need to give her? Money! Power! I have plenty of that,”

“She has rejected all of the noblemen that have come her way, no riches could ever convince her and I’m surprised that her family also agree to her antics”

Listening from a distance, Sukuna couldn’t help but become intrigued by what was being said. Many women in this time would have jumped on the chance to marry someone from a higher status let alone be married off quickly, yet here you were singing and playing like you have all the time in the world with no worries or fears that could distract you. You were at peace, while he was the destruction.

Somewhat still in a trace, it was suddenly cut off once the final string was pulled causing there to be absolute silence to fill the space leaving only the wind to cover the lack of sound before a loud parade of claps were heard as the emperor - who hosted the party - stood up with pride written all over his face. Standing up from your position, you have a light smile before bowing to show your gratitude to being allowed to play in such a prestigious event as you then made your way to the other musicians to pass them on for the next performance.

“Y/N! That was amazing, you never disappoint,”

“I have no idea what you saying, I messed up on the second to last note when I hit the wrong string, ha what am I doing to do? That is going to extremely bother me for the time being,”

“Stop being such a perfectionist! None of the sorcerers, noblemen and emperor knows that, so you’re fine,”

“Thank you and shouldn’t you really go, is it not your turn?”

“Oh! My apologies, I’ll meet up with you later,”

With your friend running off to continue with musical performance, you stood in your spot as you watched her go further into the distance leaving you to soak in the sunray that was gently providing a warm glow to your complexion as the deep purple of your kimono also brightened up leaving it somewhat of a lavender shade. Taking a deep sigh, you looking up to admire the cherry blossoms that were in bloom, only to see a figure settled on one of the branches with his ruby eyes set upon you, even though the man was hidden very skilfully within the plethora of petals you could sense him from a while away, but before you could even voice out your confusion.

“Ah, there she is! Miss L/N,”

Displaying a face of irritation on the rude disturbance - leaving Sukuna to display a face of amusement instead - you turned around to find two men standing in front of you with one that seemed to be of younger age compared to his counterpart making you come to the realisation that it was a son and father - leaving you to mentally groan in annoyance as you instantly knew where this little conversation was going.

“I want you to met my son, he is -”

“I’m sorry, but I am not interested in his hand in marriage nor his companionship” you immediately interrupted the noblemen, causing both of the men to look at you in complete shock as they didn’t expect you to figure out their intentions so soon after only a few words exchanged.

“But my dear, this is an amazing opportunity for you to-”

“Become someone with a higher nobility? Don’t make me laugh, I rather become a peasant then spend the eternity of my life bound to you,”

“What is it that you desire for your hand? Wealth? Power? Prestige? You name what you desire and we will provide!”

“I’m afraid that what I desire is impossible for you to provide me, my apologies”

“What is it that you want, woman?! Who doesn’t want what I can give you within an instinct?” the son soon erupted in anger at this rejection, still in utter confusion on why you were so adamant on not wanting to wed him.

“Entertainment? Can you provide that? You see, you noblemen always offer what you have already stated to me and that may sound very enticing to another but, you all are so boring,”

The two noblemen looked at you with astoundment in their eyes as well as Sukuna, who was cunningly listening from above on where you found him - the King of Curses didn’t want to confess this to himself but he was confused on what you trying to demonstrate here with you little speech.

“You are so so boring, you men expect me to play and sing for you every single day like a bird in a cage, yet I get no entertainment in return from you? Isn’t that quite unfair? You have no talent yet you want to be greedy, what ridiculous idea is that? It’s almost laughable in my opinion,”

Sukuna almost burst out laughing from what you artfully expressed to the two men that were in front of you as he also could relate to what you were saying. The sorcerers that he had fought and killed with his bare hands were all boring with no hint of excitement from any of the battles he had faced and here you were expressing the same distaste - they were boring. All of them.

‘Well, well little songbird, I got your attention, now you have mine,’

                                        ꕥ

“Sukuna?” you called out in a hushed surprised tone, as you unexpectedly found him sitting comfortably on the wooden corridor outside your room. Even since that little encounter back at the garden party, you have been seeing the special grade curse looming about here and there within your personal space, causing you to one day to finally acknowledge his presence that was constantly around you, only leading up where you both were now.

The excitement of these secret meetings that you both had late at night was the entertainment that you were looking for. The excitement of being so secretive with the man you desired to love but couldn’t to the outer world was the entertainment that no nobleman would ever provide you. It was the fact that this romantic link between you and Sukuna was forbidden that excited the both of you. This was the entertainment that you both desire.

“Hello, my little songbird,” Sukuna greeted you with a smirk before gently grabbing your hand to pull you down to his height - well more rather below his height - to meet eye to eye with you. “Didn’t you miss me?” he then teasingly asked, causing you to look away in a bashful expression because you knew that he knew what your answer was going to be. However, pushing your pride aside, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into an embrace which then led him to place a hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place as he savoured the warmth that you were providing him.

“Where have you been? I was worried,” you stated to him, and even though it was a laughable comment to him since what was the point in worrying about him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the foreign concern that you had for him - it truly warmed his heart that you were here with him. “I was busy, now why don’t you sing for me, my little songbird, I do miss the sound of your sweet voice,” he declared to you before placing a few light open mouth kisses on your neck leading you to let out a soft moan of pleasure which seemed to put a smile on the curse’s face.

“What would you like for me to sing to you then?” You asked as you used your hand to gently run your hand through his hair which caused Sukuna to become relaxed and lower his guard within your embrace - the only time he allowed himself to do so and the only person that was allowed to see him in this state.

“Anything. Anything that you sing for me is enough”

To be held in your arms was what Sukuna always wanted and desired every day of his life, to hear your voice was something that made him forget about the world just like back at the garden party and the elegance that you embodied while playing the Koto was something he could never get out of his mind. You were his safe haven. His little songbird. However, that was 1000 years ago.

                                          ꕥ

Residing within his vessel, Sukuna began to wonder what could have caused him to start to reminisce about the past when clearly he couldn’t do anything to bring you back with him. You were gone. You have passed. There was nothing he could do even as a powerful curse himself to bring your back onto his arms and let you sing to him.

However, what could make do for now was the song that was annoyingly playing within the music store that his vessel - Itadori Yuji - decided to visit as it seemed like he was interested in what was new with his friend Fushiguro Megumi. Slowly, the King of Curses could hear the music beginning to fade, indicating that it was the end of it before another quickly began to play to replace the ending song.

Unlike the other song, this one was softer in tune with something being strummed in the background - just like how you would strum the strings of the Koto when he would ask you to play it for him to admire - to which was then sung on top with a female voice. Disinterested, Sukuna began to dissociate himself with the song that was now playing until another voice came in with the song, suddenly leaving him in a trance like the one he was back 1000 years ago at that garden party.

Sitting up from his position, he intensively listened closer making sure that his ears didn’t deceive him from what he thought he heard.

“Oi brat! Who is singing that song?”

“Ha? What do you want now?” his vessel replied, surprised and annoyed at the sudden appearance of the curse that was inside him. 

“What does Sukuna want now?” Fushiguro asked, slightly worried about what was happening and what could happen at this moment and time since they were in a public place filled with people.

“Answer the question before I rip your heart out again,” Sukuna threatened, slowing becoming impatient and desperate for an answer leaving Itadori no choice but for once cooperate with the special grade curse.

“From what I believe, it’s a group song called ‘Don’t know what to do’, I believe there are five girls within that group,” Itadori explained before he quickly stopped within his track to see a screen playing a stage performance of the exact same song being played in the store. “Yeah! There is the group, they are really well known in Japan since they’re are touring there, I think the youngest is the same age as me and Fushiguro” to which he pointed at a girl that he was explaining about.

Looking at the scene through Itadori’s eyes, Sukuna began to observe each and every single girl that was dancing on the stage before he paused his view on a certain girl that Itadori pointed, who was dressed in a white off the shoulder crop top that was long-sleeved with a white skirt paired with white trainers that matched with the rest of the girls within the group.

“Little songbird?” he quietly muttered, not believing what was presented in front of him at this current moment in time.

There was no doubt about it, that was you on the screen singing and dancing to a song that he slowly began to love once he heard your voice. You truly looked angelic as you gracefully danced across the stage somehow managing to maintain a stable singing voice that never disappointed him. You were back.

His little songbird.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Disney but just the Queer Mood™ Songs, a full Spotify Playlist

Open to updates should anyone notice a song I missed!

Tracklist with specific lyrics that fuck us all up under the cut:

KEY: A general list of which songs resonate with people. The 🏳️‍🌈is for general songs; if you relate to a song but don’t see ur emoji beneath it, send me a message and I’ll add it!

🏳️‍🌈 General Queer Anthem  🌈 Gays specifically have related to this song  ❤️ Gay Men specifically have related to this song  🧡 Lesbians specifically have related to this song 💕 Bisexuals/Pansexuals specifically have related to this song  💜 Asexuals/Ace-spectrum people specifically have related to this song 💚 Aromatics/Aro-spectrum people specifically have related to this song 🤍 Trans people have specifically related to this song 🖤 Nonbinary/Genderqueer people have specifically related to this song  💗 Polyamorous people have specifically related to this song

Know Who You Are - Moana

🏳️‍🌈

They have stolen the heart from inside you But this does not define you  This is not who you are You know who you are...

I Wonder - Sleeping Beauty 

🌈🧡

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder why each little bird has a someone To sing to, sweet things to, A gay little love melody I wonder, I wonder, I wonder if my heart keeps singing, Will my song go winging To someone, who'll find me And bring back a love song to me...

Mother Knows Best - Tangled

🏳️‍🌈 honestly this is just... a general song for some of our shitty relationships to guardian figures...

It's a scary world out there Mother knows best One way or another Something will go wrong, I swear

Me, I'm just your mother, what do I know? I only bathed and changed and nursed you Go ahead and leave me, I deserve it Let me die alone here, be my guest When it's too late You'll see, just wait Mother knows best

Don't forget it You'll regret it...

Dangerous to Dream - Frozen Broadway Production

🏳️‍🌈

I can't be what you expect of me But I'm trying every day with all I do and do not say Here on the edge of the abyss Knowing everything in my whole life has lead to this And so I pull inside myself, close the walls, put up my guard I've practiced every single day for this So why is it so hard?

I can't dwell on what we've lost And our secrecy and silence comes at such a cost

I wish I could tell the truth Show you who's behind the door I wish you knew what all this pantomime And pageantry was for

It's dangerous to wish I could make choices of my own Dangerous to even have that thought I'm dangerous just standing here for everyone to see If I let go of rules who knows how dangerous I'd be?

Reflection - Mulan 

🏳️‍🌈🤍🖤- literally everyone requested this. everyone. so im just copy-pasting the entire lyrics sorry not sorry

Look at me, I will never pass for a perfect bride Or a perfect daughter Can it be I'm not meant to play this part? Now I see that if I were truly to be myself I would break my family's heart

Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don't know? Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I’ve tried  When will my reflection show who I am inside?

How I pray that a time will come I can free myself From their expectations On that day, I'll discover someway to be myself And to make my family proud They want a docile lamb No one knows who I am Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide? Must I pretend that I'm Someone else for all time? When will my reflection show Who I am inside? When will my reflection show Who I am inside?

Everything I Ever Thought I Knew - Tangled: The Series

🏳️‍🌈 when u realize u might not be straight lol

I thought no one could love me And how could I have known? I was wrong, oh so wrong

Everything I ever thought I knew Where I've been, where I'm going Everything I counted on turned out to be untrue Could've guessed, should've known, now I do

If none of it was really me then who am I supposed to be?

I guess I'm someone else now I wonder who I am

God Help the Outcasts - Hunchback of Notre Dame

🏳️‍🌈...yeah. yeah

Yes, I know I'm just an outcast I shouldn't speak to You Still, I see Your face and wonder Were You once an outcast, too?

God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don't find on Earth God help my people, they look to You, still God help the outcasts or nobody will

I ask for nothing, I can get by But I know so many less lucky than I Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God

Belle (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast

🌈 when a cishet thinks ur interested smh

Madame Gaston! Can't you just see it? Madame Gaston! His little wife No, sir! Not me! I guarantee it I want much more than this provincial life!

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere I want it more than I can tell And for once it might be grand To have someone understand I want so much more than they've got planned...

Part of Your World - The Little Mermaid

🌈 SO many people requested this one guys it’s not even funny

Wandering free, wish I could be Part of that world

Betcha on land, they understand Bet they don't reprimand their daughters Bright young women, sick of swimming Ready to stand

When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love, Love to explore that shore up above?

One Jump Ahead (Reprise) - Aladdin

🏳️‍🌈

Riff-raff, street rat I don't buy that If only they'd look closer

Would they see a poor boy? No, siree They'd find out There's so much more to me...

Proud of Your Boy - Aladdin Broadway Production 

🏳️‍🌈❤️🤍

That I've been one rotten kid Some son, some pride and some joy But I'll get over these lousin' up Messin' up, screwin' up times...

Water flows under the bridge Let it pass, let it go There's no good reason that you should believe me Not yet, I know, but

Someday and soon I'll make you proud of your boy Though I can't make myself taller Or smarter or handsome or wise I'll do my best, what else can I do? Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you...

Someone’s Waiting for You - The Rescuers

🏳️‍🌈

Be brave, little one Make a wish for each sad little tear Hold your head up though no one is near Someone's waiting for you

Always keep a little prayer in your pocket And you're sure to see the light Soon there'll be joy and happiness And your little world will be bright

Have faith, little one Til your hopes and your wishes come true

Stick to the Status Quo - High School Musical 

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 YOU ALL KNOW EXACTLY WHY THIS IS HERE

No, no, no, stick to the stuff you know It is better by far to keep things as they are Don't mess with the flow, no no Stick to the status quo

Into the Unknown - Frozen 2

🏳️‍🌈

I can hear you, but I won't Some look for trouble while others don't There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whispers which I wish would go away

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be? Every day's a little harder as I feel my power grow Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Where are you going? Don't leave me alone How do I follow you Into the unknown?

Go the Distance - Hercules 

🏳️‍🌈

I have often dreamed of a far off place Where a great, warm welcome will be waiting for me

And a voice keeps saying This is where I'm meant to be

I am on my way, I can go the distance I don't care how far, somehow I'll be strong I know every mile will be worth my while I would go most anywhere to find where I belong

Tomorrow - Annie

🏳️‍🌈 - betcha didnt know disney had an annie movie did u

The sun will come out tomorrow Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow There'll be sun

When I'm stuck in a day that's gray and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and say, oh, The sun’ll come out tomorrow So you gotta hang on til tomorrow, come what may...

Learn Me Right - Brave

🏳️‍🌈💜💚

Though I may speak some tongue of old Or even spit out some holy word I have no strength with which to speak When you sit me down and see I’m weak

We will run and scream you will dance with me We'll fulfill our dreams, and we'll be free We will be who we are, and they’ll heal our scars Sadness will be far away...

Strange Sight - Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbeast 

🏳️‍🌈

You stand in the light You're wrong, but you're right And my heart's beating wildly Strange how I'm scared but delighted Afraid, but excited too

I will understand you Strange how I'm drawn to the danger I reach out my hand to you

If you're caught in the shadows and turned all around Lost in the darkness, you will be found If you hear my voice, follow the sound Cause I'm here to guide you home... 

I Don’t Dance - High School Musical 2 

🌈 ❤️ 💕 okay so if you weren’t here for the high school musical tumblr revival you may be confused but listen... it’s about being mlm... 

Step up to the plate, start swinging

I wanna play ball Now that’s all, this is what I do It ain’t no dance that you can show me

I’ve got what it takes playin’ my game So you best skin that pitch you gonna throw me, yeah I’ll show you how I swing

I can prove it to you ‘til you know it’s true Cause I can swing it, I can bring it to the diamond too You’re talking a lot, show me what you got Stop, swing!

Kiss the Girl - cover of The Little Mermaid 

this version is sung by a girl so 🧡💕

There you see her, sitting there across the way She don't got a lot to say but there's something about her And you don't know why, but you're dying to try You wanna kiss the girl

Yes, you want her Look at her, you know you do It's possible she want you too There is one way to ask her...

Can You Feel the Love Tonight - The Lion King 

🏳️‍🌈

An enchanted moment And it sees me through It's enough for this restless warrior Just to be with you

There's a time for everyone if they only learn That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors When the heart of this star-crossed voyager Beats in time with yours

And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer That we got this far And can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest It's enough to make kings and vagabonds Believe the very best

Beauty and the Beast - Beauty and the Beast 

🏳️‍🌈- a lot of queer people tend to empathize with “beastly” characters so we all latched the fuck onto this movie huh

Just a little change, small to say the least Both a little scared, neither one prepared

Ever just the same, ever a surprise Ever as before, ever just as sure As the sun will rise

Tale as old as time, tune as old as song Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change Learning you were wrong...

Healing Incantation - Tangled 

🏳️‍🌈🤍🖤

Heal what has been hurt Change the fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine

So Close - Enchanted 

🏳️‍🌈🌈

A life goes by, romantic dreams will stop So I bid mine goodbye and never knew So close was waiting waiting here with you And now, forever, I know All that I wanted to hold you so close

Oh, how could I face the faceless days If I should lose you now?

So close to reaching that famous happy end Almost believing this one's not pretend Let’s go on dreaming though we know we are So close, so close, and still So far...

If Only - Descendants

🏳️‍🌈🌈

A million thoughts in my head Should I let my heart keep listening? Cause up 'til now, I've walked the line Nothing lost but something missing I can't decide what's wrong, what's right Which way should I go?

Every step, every word With every hour I'm feeling in To something new, something brave To someone I've never been

Will you still be with me When the magic's all run out?

If only I knew what my heart was telling me Don't know what I'm feeling Is this just a dream? If only I could read the signs in front of me I could find the way to who I'm meant to be

Wherever You Are - Pooh’s Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin 

🏳️‍🌈- out of context could be interpreted as romantic, esp since the credits version is a duet (🌈 💕) but the original context is friendship so honestly it’s very 💜💚

I'm out here in the dark, all alone and wide awake Come and find me I'm empty and I'm cold, and my heart's about to break Come and find me

I need you to come here and find me Cause without you, I'm totally lost I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far I can only dream of you

But when the morning comes and the sun begins to rise, I will lose you Because it’s just a dream, when I open up my eyes, I will lose you

I used to believe in forever, But forever is too good to be true I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far

I don't know what else to do Except to try to dream of you And wonder, if you're dreaming too Wherever you are

I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) - Hercules

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 💕

If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that

Who d'you think you're kiddin'? He's the earth and heaven to ya Try to keep it hidden Honey, we can see right through ya Girl, you can't conceal it We know how you feel And who you're thinking of

I thought my heart had learned its lesson It feels so good when you start out My head is screaming "Get a grip, girl!" Unless you're dying to cry your heart out

You keep on denying Who you are and how you're feeling Baby, we're not buying Hon, we saw you hit the ceiling

This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love

At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love

Endless Night - The Lion King Broadway Production 

🏳️‍🌈🤍 🖤 

Where has the starlight gone? Dark is the day How can I find my way home? Home is an empty dream, lost to the night Father, I feel so alone

When will the dawning break, oh, endless night Sleepless I dream of the day

I know that the night must end And that the sun will rise I know that the clouds must clear And that the sun will shine

Set Yourself Free - Tangled: The Series 

🏳️‍🌈🤍

There's much more inside of you than anyone can see And now the choice is yours Life waits beyond the doors So step on through, the time has come And only you can set yourself free!

No one else can tell you what to do Or who to be! No one gets to say if you will stay or go

Look inside your heart and find the key... And set yourself free!

Bound up by your worries Trapped by your mistakes Forced to play a role you never chose Why not test your limits? You've got what it takes Let it out and follow where it goes

No more letting someone else define you to a "T" You know that you are strong You've known it all along So seize the day, let down your hair You’ll find a way to set yourself free!

So look to the horizon Open up your wings! Fly away to find your destiny... And set yourself free!

Speechless - Aladdin 2019 Remake 

🏳️‍🌈 ALL OF US ALL OF US

Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under

Cause I'll breathe when they try to suffocate me! Don't you underestimate me! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!

Written in stone, every rule, every word Centuries old and unbending "Stay in your place, better seen and not heard," Well, now that story is ending

Try to lock me in this cage! I won't just lay me down and die! I will take these broken wings And watch me burn across the sky!

I’m Still Here (Jim’s Theme) - Treasure Planet

🏳️‍🌈❤️🤍

I am a question to the world Not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms

You don't know me And I'll never be what you want me to be

And what do you think you'd understand I'm a boy - No, I'm a man You can't take me and throw me away And how can you learn what's never shown Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me, cause I’m not here 

And I want to tell you who I am Can you help me be a man They can't break me As long as I know who I am

They can't tell me who to be 'Cause I'm not what they see Yeah, the world is still sleepin' While I keep on dreaming for me And their words are just whispers and lies That I'll never believe!

Crossing the Line - cover of Tangled: the Series 

🏳️‍🌈 🧡 tfw when u are DONE with that fuckin closet 

This has to stop now This thing where you think that you've been my friend And don't even hear how you condescend The way you've always done

How I've tried to jump that great divide! But I've never got the chances you were given You don't know how much I've been denied Well, I'm not being patient anymore

I'm crossing the line! And I'm done holding back So look out, clear the track, it's my turn! I'm taking what's mine Every drop, every smidge If I'm burning a bridge, let it burn! But I'm crossing the line...

Let it Go - Frozen 

🏳️‍🌈 listen. i do not have to explain this one. you all know exactly why it’s here. we were all tiny gays in 2013 losing our shit in the theater for no discernable reason why. we know

Couldn't keep it in, Heaven knows I tried

Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know!

Let it go! Let it go! Turn away and slam the door! I don't care what they're going to say!

It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all!

No right, no wrong, no rules for me I'm free!

I'm never going back, the past is in the past!

Let it go! Let it go! And I'll rise like the break of dawn Let it go! Let it go! That perfect girl is gone!

This is Me - Camp Rock 

🏳️‍🌈 🧡 💕 🤍

I've always been the kind of girl that hid my face So afraid to tell the world what I've got to say But I have this dream right inside of me I'm gonna let it show it's time To let you know It's to let you know

Do you know what it's like to feel so in the dark? To dream about a life where you're the shining star

This is real, this is me I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, now Gonna let the light shine on me Now I've found who I am there's no way to hold it in No more hiding who I wanna be...

Breaking Free - High School Musical 

🏳️‍🌈 🖤

You know the world can see us In a way that's different than who we are Creating space between us 'Till we're separate hearts But your faith it gives me strength Strength to believe

Soarin, flyin There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach If we’re trying, yeah we’re breaking free  We’re running, climbin  To get to the place, to be all that we can be  Now’s the time, so we’re breaking free

True To Your Heart - Mulan 

🏳️‍🌈 🌈

Baby, I knew at once that you were meant for me Deep in my soul, I know that I'm your destiny Though you're unsure Why fight the tide Don't think so much Let your heart decide

True to your heart You must be true to your heart That's when the heavens'll part And, baby, shower you with my love Open your eyes Your heart can tell you no lies And when you're true to your heart I know it's gonna lead you straight to me

Someone ya know is on your side can set you free I can do that for you if you believe in me Why second guess what feels so right Just trust your heart And you'll see the light

Never Knew I Needed - The Princess and the Frog 

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 💕

For the way you changed my plans For being the perfect distraction For the way you took the idea that I have Of everything that I wanted to have And made me see there was something missing...

My accidental happily ever after The way you smile and how you comfort me with your laughter I must admit you were not a part of my book But now if you open it up and take a look You're the beginning and the end of every chapter

You're the best thing I never knew I needed So when you were here I had no idea You'd be the best thing I never knew I needed So now it's so clear I need you here always

Colors of the Wind - Pocahontas 

🏳️‍🌈 - colors.... rainbows.... yea

How can there be so much that you don't know? You don't know...

You think the only people who are people Are the people who look and think like you But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew

How high will the sycamore grow If you cut it down, then you'll never know And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon For whether we are white or copper skinned We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains We need to paint with all the colors of the wind...

I See the Light - Tangled 

🏳️‍🌈 🌈 - you would not BELIEVE how many of y’all requested this one

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be

Now she's here shining in the starlight Now she's here, suddenly I know If she's here it's crystal clear I'm where I'm meant to go

And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted

All at once, everything looks different Now that I see you

Strangers Like Me - Tarzan 

🏳️‍🌈 🤍 🖤- that moment when u find another queer person and ur like “holy shit”

I can see there's so much to learn It's all so close and yet so far I see myself as people see me Oh, I just know there's something bigger out there

Come with me now to see my world Where there's beauty beyond your dreams Can you feel the things I feel Right now, with you Take my hand There's a world I need to know...

Why Should I Worry? - Oliver & Company 

🏳️‍🌈- we’re queer, we’re here, get used to it 

Why should I worry? Why should I care? I may not have a dime But I got street savoir-faire Why should I worry? Why should I care? It's just be-bopulation And I got street savoir-faire

Why should I worry? Why should I care? And even when I crossed that line I got street savoir-faire

Welcome - Brother Bear 

🏳️‍🌈 pride parade amirite

Everyone's invited This is how we live We are here for each other, happy to give All we have we share And all of us we care

There's a bond between us nobody can explain It's a celebration of life We see our friends again I'll be there for you I know you'll be there for me, too So come on!

This has to be the most beautiful The most peaceful place I've ever been to It's nothing like I've never seen before When I think how far I've come I can't believe it And yet I see it In them I see family I see the way we used to be...

The Great Divide - Tinkerbell and the Secret of the Wings

🏳️‍🌈

I'm on your side Let's take this ride And together we're facing the world Doing things nobody's done before And the great divide doesn’t seem so wide anymore

With You by My Side - Tangled: the Series 

💗 - tangled the series was so close to being canon polyam istg

Now; now more than ever We must stick together united

If we're destined to head in our own different ways Let's make the most of these sweet final days Why not go out in a glorious blaze

There's nothing I couldn't do Not with you by my side What in the world would I do Without you by my side...

Love Will Find a Way - The Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride

🏳️‍🌈 🌈

In a perfect world One we've never known We would never need to face the world alone They can have the world We'll create our own I may not be brave or strong or smart But somewhere in my secret heart

And if only they could feel it too The happiness I feel with you

Like dark turning into day Somehow we'll come through Now that I've found you Love will find a way I know love will find a way

Space Between - Descendants 2

🧡 never have i ever seen gays flock to a song faster

And you can find me in the space between Where two worlds come to meet I'll never be out of reach Cause you're a part of me so you can find me in the space between You'll never be alone No matter where you go We can meet in the space between

Even if we're worlds apart You're still in my heart It will always be you and me, yeah

If I Never Knew You - Pocahontas

🏳️‍🌈🌈

And if I never held you I would never have a clue How at last I'd find in you The missing part of me...

In this world so full of fear Full of rage and lies I can see the truth so clear In your eyes So dry your eyes

If I never knew you I'd be safe but half as real Never knowing I could feel A love so strong and true

I thought our love would be so beautiful  Somehow we'd make the whole world bright I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong All they'd leave us were these whispers in the night But still my heart is saying we were right

I’d Give Anything - Tangled: the Series 

🧡 rapunzel’s sad breakup song

So if you find that you're in darkness or despair Though you won't turn to me please know I'll be right there Name any sacrifice, I'll pay the price that's due Cause I'd give anything for you Yes, I'd give anything to relive everything we knew...

Someday - Hunchback of Notre Dame 

🏳️‍🌈

I used to believe In the days I was naïve That I'd live to see A day of justice dawn And though I will die Long before that morning comes I'll die while believing still It will come when I am gone

Someday, when we are wiser When the world's older, when we have learned I pray someday we may yet live To live and let live

Someday, these dreams will all be real Till then we'll wish upon the moon Change will come, one day Someday soon... 

No One Is Alone - Into the Woods 

🏳️‍🌈

Mother cannot guide you, now your on your own. Only me beside you, still you're not alone. No one is alone. Truly, no one is alone…

People make mistakes Holding to their own  Thinking they’re alone 

Someone is on your side, someone else is not  While we’re seeing our side, maybe we forgot  They are not alone, no one is alone...

I Am Moana (Song of the Ancestors) - Moana

🏳️‍🌈 🤍 - it’s about the self-acceptance binch

Sometimes, the world seems against you The journey may leave a scar But scars can heal and reveal just Where you are

The people you love will change you The things you have learned will guide you And nothing on Earth can silence The quiet voice still inside you

I've delivered us to where we are I have journeyed farther I am everything I've learned and more Still it calls me

And the call isn't out there at all, it's inside me! It's like the tide, always falling and rising I will carry you here in my heart, you remind me That come what may I know the way

Show Yourself - Frozen 2 

🏳️‍🌈 - this one was claimed immediately by the queer community and we all have a stake in it but i do want to point out that i got this from a LOT of 🤍 🖤 💜 💚

I have always been a fortress Cold secrets deep inside You have secrets too But you don't have to hide

I've never felt so certain All my life, I've been torn But I'm here for a reason Could it be the reason I was born? I have always been so different Normal rules did not apply Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?

Oh, show yourself Let me see who you are... Come to me now Open your door Don't make me wait One moment more!

(Come, my darling, homeward bound) I am found!

Transformation / Beauty and the Beast (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast Broadway Production 

🏳️‍🌈

We are home, we are where we shall be forever  Trust in me, for you know I won’t run away from today This is all that I need, and all that I need to say  Don’t you know how you’ve changed me? Strange how I finally see  I found home, you’re my home, stay with me... 

Finale / Let it Go - Frozen Broadway Production 

🏳️‍🌈 this makes me bawl so it gets finale

There’s so much I longed to say Then say it all, beginning with today It’s like a dream I thought could never be  Elsa, you’re free 

Here we stand in the light of day Let the sun shine on 

I take this warmth within and send it up above Goodbye to dark and fear, let’s fill this world with light and love And here surrounded by a family at least  We’re never going back, the past is in the past 

Let our true love go  Let it go!

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

heavenly yours (epilogue) | th x fem!reader

Heavenly Yours – a chaotic series

PART 1  |  PART 2  |  PART 3 | epilogue

Summary: A few years passed and some things changed. What is now happening in the Underworld of Hell?

Pairing: KOH!Tom x Angel!Fem!Reader 

Warnings: language, some blood (not much), tones of cute moments, tones of feelings, SMUT including pregnant sex, unprotected sex (use condoms kids), fingering, stimulation and breeding kink (oopsie)

Words count: 10.2k

A/N: first of all: a massive thank you to all the people who supported me and this mini series! you’ve been amazing all along, and i couldn’t have make it without you 🙏🏻✨ also sorry for the delay but i started a new job so i was busy, but then covid-19 happened and here i am now at home 😅 at least i can get some writing done ��� anyway this mini series is coming to an end with this epilogue, so again a big tysm and i hope you will support my other works like you did with this one 💖💞

masterlist | series masterlist | your support

A few years later.

In the Hell’s Castle.

.

.

❞ You piece of crap, you are such a disgrace even for Hell. ❞

The voice echoes in the throne room. It is not a scream, but still loud, rough and impressing. Capable of giving you the chills or killing anyone on the spot. A voice well-known in the Underworld of Hell. A voice feared by any demon down there.

‘M-MY KING, I-I DIDN’T MEAN TO- I AM S-SORRY PLEASE! SPARE ME P-PLEASE-”

❞ SILENCE. ❞

The voice gets a bit deeper this time. The entire room trembles and so do all the people present in there. No one dares to look directly at him, scared of making him lose his temper even more. The demons care for their life and just kneel down, heads bows, silently.

But boy someone sure is going to have a bad time today.

Tom lazily sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other and an elbow on the black wooden armrest with his hand supporting his head. His current sitting spot overhangs the room, getting a clear view on today’s “trash to clean”, as he commonly calls them. The strong fingers of his free hands tap on the armrest, his short nails creating a macabre melody in addition to the fragile pleading of the unfortunate defendant of the day. The King’s facial expression doesn’t let through a single ounce of emotion, but who knows him well senses that the King is upset. Really upset.

❞ How many times did we catch you sneaking out of the 8th circle? Five, or more? Either way, you really pissed me off now. ‘ve got other shits to deal with. ❞

‘P-PLEASE MY KING! I WILL DO WHATEVER Y-YOU WANT! PLE-’

❞ FUCK OFF, YOU MISERABLE ASSHOLE. ❞

*slash*

The pleading abruptly stops, letting a heavy silence to take place. The body of the demon then separates in two perfect and equal parts, before falling into a sloppy sound on the now bloody ground. Still no word spoken. Now the smell of death is strong in the room, and the blood of that disgusting and deceitful demon begins to block Tom’s airways.

❞ Take that shit away from my sight and clean quickly that mess ❞ exhales Tom, scratching his temples and frowning at the displeased view.

The demons’ subjects stand one by one and after bowing their head to their King, they start executing his orders.

❞ Actually, give some pieces to Tessa. She will be happy to have something to chew on. ❞

At the sound of her name the aforesaid Tessa makes her way next to her master, her claws clinking on the marble floor as she passes next to the corpse and other royal subjects. Now sitting next to Tom’s leg, her tongue hanging out, the female staffy raises her face towards Tom who understands what she wants.

❞ I know, darling, I know. Now is break time ❞ slightly chuckles Tom as he bends his upper body  to scratch behind his dog’s ears.

Just as his subjects finish cleaning the mess from earlier - not forgetting to bring some “toys” in Tessa’s corner -, Tom catches some stepie steps coming from behind the giant entrance door of the throne room. And he knows these steps. Pretty well actually. He smiles and Tessa seems to ear them too now, her tails batting the ground from excitement.

The devil man finally stands from his throne, extending his black wings on his back. All royal servants are gone, the place shinning like day one. Then a light knock resonates in Tom’s ears, his smile transforming into an amused smirk.

❞ Who dares to disturb the King during his duties? ❞ Tom exclaims in a weird imposing baritone voice, chin up and chest puffed out.

*giggles*

The man beats his wings and keeps his position, quite the opposite of Tessa who excitedly begins running around Tom, knowing who is actually behind the door.

❞ I dare you to enter this room, you little crooks! ❞

The heavy double door cracks as it opens slowly, letting out some creaking noises. Tessa just starts running straight to it as her barks echo in the room. And as the door opens enough, two little bodies appear behind it and are instantly being jumped on by the dog, clearly happy to see them. Then follow lots of laughing and giggles.

‘DADDY!’

Tom finally loosens up his acting at both voices calling him then walks towards them, arms open wide. As Tessa calms down, the two bodies free themselves and run to the King, before jumping right at him. Tom catches them, joining their laughs as he starts spinning around.

❞ How are my beautiful children doing? ❞

Children indeed. Two children. Tom’s treasures and source of happiness. Something he never imagined he could have one day. But he did. On his strong arms are attached his four and a half-year-old daughter Dottie and almost two-year-old son Al, both their little hands wrap around their dad’s waist and torso as they look at him with smiling faces.

Dottie is the clear image of Tom. Same brown wild curls he once had back to his angel’s life, big coffee eyes that are already pro at doing the puppy look, a cheeky smile and very affectionate. A total outgoing daddy’s girl, a bit loud sometimes, but always ready to help and protect the one she loves, mostly her little brother. She is his little warrior, as Tom likes to call her.

Regarding Al, the younger sibling is definitely like (Y/N). The same features from the colour of his hair, eyes and so on that scream he is the reflection of the dear angel who stole Tom’s heart long time ago. But little Al is quieter than his sister, sometimes shy or even diffident, but still kind and radiating gentleness. And a one hundred percent mama’s boy.

To compliment all that, both children display cute growing wings on their back. A mix of white and dark feathers, beautifully arranged and showing the union of their so different parents. But Tom couldn’t stop touching them because each time he does, these feathers prove him everything is now possible, even for him who endure exile and torture alone for so long. The tiny bodies he carries warmly are the fruit of his tenacity to show how much the Kingdom of Heaven was wrong since forever, ruling in the shadow with received ideas which only created sadness in the end.

But not anymore.

❞ Wait, did you two sneak out of your mother’s sight or- ❞

“I’m always close to them even when they don’t know, darling.”

Tom exhales, a smile growing on his face. The lovely and soothing voice of his other half makes his head turn towards it. And there she is. (Y/N). Standing next to his throne as if she was always meant to be there, wings majestically framing her body and the long white lace summer dress he lastly bought her drawing her curves to the perfection. And new perfectly stretching around her growing stomach. The angel brings her left hand up to stroke it, the circular moves drawing attention to the golden accessory on her ring finger which also matchs with his own one.

A wedding ring.

Her longer hair cascades on her back and shoulders, nicely brushed and arranged to welcome a delicate crown on top of her head. Thin and discreet, a few gold stems go around her head, intertwined together, with some clear red spots here and there.

A golden crown of red roses.

(Y/N) is absolutely stunning, she always was, always is and always will be. She manages to take Tom’s breath away each time, even for any little things she does. The angel was the missing puzzle piece since the beginning.

After the night they became one, Tom stake to his words to make the angel woman his queen. As much as Tom wanted a quick and private celebration, his friend and advisor Harrison had to remind him many times that Tom being the King of Hell, he had to mark the occasion at least a little bit to officially present her to the Kingdom of Hell.

And that is what Tom did.

It was a short ceremony but still worthy of the King of Hell. And maybe an occasion to show off a lot little next to his soon to be - and now officially proclaimed - wife, the love of his (after)life. And it would have been logical to give her the title of Queen of Hell, as him being the King of Hell himself.

But no. Tom didn’t want her being associated too much to the Underworld of Hell, title included. So he decided to stick with only “Queen” and that was already enough, and even better. (Y/N) is his Queen, the one he wants to rule his Kingdom next to, the one he wants to be with forever.

‘MAMA!’

The children both squeeze out the grip of their father to rapidly fly right towards their mother, who kindly smile at them as she catches her youngest one in his still wobbly flying. Al and Dottie cuddle into (Y/N)’s body, being careful to avoid her tummy during their embrace.

Tom could look at this scene for hours. Looking at the person he loves the most holding his two other precious ones - soon to be three - all together, radiating of love, happiness and kindness, emotions he craved for so long that he is now proud of being able to have and feel. Unconsciously this put a warm smile on his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from joining them too.

As Tom engulfs them all into his strong arms, his black wings also surrounding them, (Y/N) slightly nuzzles her face into her husband’s neck while still holding both her children close to her. The devil man rubs his nose against the soft hair on top of her head, avoiding her little crown, to smell the fresh scent of flowers coming from it.

❞ You like to just appear and disappear wherever you want to surprise me, don’t you darling? ❞ jokes Tom kissing her temple, which makes his wife giggle.

“It’s not like you don’t like it, sweetheart” replies (Y/N) as she leaves a soft peck on his neck.

❞ Cheeky you. But touché. ❞

One of Tom’s hands slides around her lower back then her hip to end its course at the side of her growing stomach, slowly stroking it through the fabric of her sundress. He kisses both Dottie and Al’s foreheads before resting his cheek against (Y/N)’s temple.

Being able to have his family by his side to love and cherish to his heart’s content is something Tom would never change. His family. These simple words bring so much feelings inside him, warming up his heart each time he says them out loud. With a powerful meaning.

Tom detaches from the little group to take back both his daughter and son in his own arm, freeing (Y/N) from their intense grip. He then walks to his throne and sits on it, putting both his children on one leg on it. (Y/N) soon joins them too and sits on Tom’s free leg, slightly leaning on her husband’s torso.

❞ Alright kids, what did you do with your mother until now? ❞ asks Tom to his children, firmly but tenderly keeping them still on his leg.

As Dottie begins (but mostly tries) to vividly describe all the games they played and Al listening to his big sister, both parents look at them lovingly while cuddling into each other. Tessa soon join them with something in her mouth - definitely a piece of the demon’s body from before -, sitting peacefully at Tom’s feet to chew on her new “toy”.

The macabre room of sentences is now filled with adorable laughers and chitchatting, clearing up the usual bloody and terrific atmosphere for today, at least.

* * * *

(Y/N) lays on the red velvet couch in the living room, her back against tones of fluffy pillows she gathered from everywhere in the castle. Her legs stretched out, she continues reading with the book slightly put on her five-month-tummy. In the background, the angel can hear Dottie and Al playing in the garden with Tessa, their joyful laughers making her smile. Beside her, the fire keeps crackling in the fireplace, warming up the air around her. It is actually the only spot of fire (Y/N) ever saw in Hell, and the only one she is actually happy to light up.

Still immerse in her peaceful reading, she hears steps resonate on the marble of the living room, coming closer to where she is. As the angel raises her head, the silhouette of Harrison makes its way to her. Dressed in his usual black outfit, imposing wings on display, the loyal demon of Hell soon stops at the back of the couch to address to the young woman.

“Good afternoon, Harrison” (Y/N) greets him as she rests the still open book on her stomach, giving her full attention to her friend.

‘ Good afternoon, (Y/N). We just rece- ‘

Harrison gets interrupted by (Y/N) who puts her index finger on her lips, then slowly pointing down to where her book is. Intrigued, the demon leans further over the couch. And to his surprise here sleeps the King of Hell himself, totally squeezed between the back of the couch and (Y/N)’s body, his face slightly on top of her breasts and an arm around her pregnant belly.

(Y/N)’s hand begins to scratch his scalp softly and he seems to snuggle more into her, his breathing calm and at ease. Harrison tries his best to suppress a smirk. Seeing the most powerful demon who terrifies all Hell and beyond in this position, as gentle as a lamb, is for sure destroying the entire myth itself. But at the same time, he never saw his friend this peaceful until he made the impossible to bring his love one back to him.

So in the end, Harrison couldn’t stop the discret crooked grin in the corner of his lips. After silently clearing his voice, he starts again but in a hushed voice.

‘ As I was saying, we just received a letter from Heaven addressed to you. ‘

Harrison holds the aforesaid letter out to the angel woman, who takes it carefully as to not crumple the delicate paper. The letter is rolled up and neatly tied up in a white silk ribbon, (Y/N)’s name calligraphed on it in thin and calligraphed letters.

Looking at her sleepy husband one last time, (Y/N) takes the ribbon between her fingers and slowly undo it, depositing it on her book. Harrison stays at the same place, hands linked on his back as he watches over the woman. (Y/N) rolls the paper out with her two hands and sees a few lines written on it, the handwriting being familiar to her.

“This is from Zendaya” starts (Y/N), now smiling with kind eyes at the letter. “Thank you Harrison.”

‘ You’re welcome, (Y/N). I will be with the kids if you need something. Also... ‘

The demon glances at Tom who has not moved an inch since then, still fast asleep against (Y/N).

‘ ... Make sure he is awake for his afternoon’s duties. Got some important “work” to deal with ‘ Harrison whispers, emphasising the specific word “work” with the intonation of his voice.

“I know I know, don’t worry about it” replies (Y/N) while massaging Tom’s scalp.

As Harrison makes his way outside to keep a close eye on the children - even if in the end, he will totally play with them but never admit it out loud -, (Y/N) feels Tom’s body moving slightly, his legs stretching out but still not waking up fully.

The arm around her stomach tightens a bit, his hand caressing her side almost tickling her thought her dress. He snuggles more against her, a content smile now on his face. Letting her husband enjoy his well deserved nap, (Y/N) can concentrate on the letter she received from Zendaya.

Zendaya. One of the Superior Angels who maintains peace in the Kingdom of Heaven. One with a big heart and a beautiful soul. And the only one who trusted and agreed to help Tom when he was banished and sent to Hell.

Approaching the Superior Angels was, at the time, nearly impossible because they were considered as “the direct messengers of the Holy God”. But Zendaya had always been... Zendaya. Well educated, respected by everyone and also the only Superior Angels close to the other angels. She never feared anyone, even when her fellow Superiors asked her many times to keep her distance with the common  angels.

Zendaya always had a mind of her own and that is also why she developed a certain friendship with Tom. Him being himself loved by everyone in Heaven, she knew since the beginning she could trust him. With time they became confidant to one another, and it is also like how Zendaya learnt about his growing feelings towards (Y/N). She knew her too, a bit less but still enough to trust her deeply and admire her from afar. But everything changed when the Superior Angels suspected something was going on. And, in fact, they didn’t hesitate a single second to get complete rid of Tom without another thought. And Zendaya couldn’t do anything but assist to his terrific exile.  

As time flies, Zendaya felt nothing was the same in Heaven anymore. Mostly when she kept an eye on (Y/N). So much despair and sadness, but well hidden by the young angel to not draw any attention to her. Zendaya admired (Y/N)’s mental strength but she could not not be afraid of her fellow’s mental health. And even with all her will, Zendaya knew she couldn’t do anything. At least not by herself.

Until one day, totally out of nowhere when she thought she had to finally put what happened behind her. That specific day, everything changed as a tiny piece of paper was found under the bench Zendaya usually sits on in her private garden. A simple message non signed but somehow... recognisable, with a black feather attached to it and simply written:

“I’m alive. We need to talk.”

Zendaya kept her devilish correspondence with Tom to herself, being extremely careful each time a letter was sent by one or received by the other. The Superior Angel was the best help Tom needed to bring back (Y/N) to him, even if Zendaya was not really in favour of that idea, at first. But she was the most sensible angel - with (Y/N) - in Heaven and the determined one wishing for a change.

A true and concrete change had to happen. Now or never.

And that is how Zendaya planned (Y/N)’s “evasion” with Tom’s help, also managing at the same time to not declare a war between both kingdoms and opening the minds of angels and demons. What a job, really. But it was worse it because since then, the impenetrable borders between the two worlds finally fell for good.

...

« « My Dear (Y/N),

I hope you are doing good. How is your pregnancy is going?

Recently, the Superiors Angels and I gathered to discuss about sharing our mutual files about the people arriving at the Purgatory’s Gates, but also about the “doubtful” ones. I broached this topic since a bit of time now, but you know how the Superiors are... Still reluctant about this and that, but we will slowly make it.

And how are Hell Boy and your beautiful kids? Hope they at least give you some rest time. Mostly Tom because this man is a mess by himself. I still wonder sometimes how he manages to do anything while you were not here (yet).

Anyway. Tell little Dottie and little Al I love them a lot, to be good and that I can’t wait to see you all again when your new little member will be here.

Wishing you all the happiness to you and your beautiful family.

P.S.: tell Tom to stop being a dick and to read that damn report I sent him last week because I need an answer fast now, thanks.

Sincerely, Zendaya. » »

(Y/N) tries to stop giggling at the last lines of the letter, but still couldn’t really help it. Her chest vibrates against her will, slightly shaking Tom out from his sleep.

❞ What in this letter is making my beautiful wife laugh? ❞ Tom asks sleepily, his voice hoarse and eyes still close as if waking up is not in his plans yet.

(Y/N) caresses and kiss the crown of his head still resting on her chest, now openly giggling at the sluggish mood of her husband.

“Zendaya is waiting for you to read a report from a week ago” the angel slowly starts, her fingers running along Tom’s neck as her lips don’t leave his forehead. “Also she is planning to come visit when our little one is born.”

Tom finally dares to raise his head and meet his wife’s sparkling eyes, his being drown into them again and a smile now on his face.

❞ I can’t wait for them to be born, I want to hold them in my arms so bad ❞ says Tom, kind of lost in his thoughts as he caresses (Y/N)’s stomach lovingly.

“Me too, I can’t wait” the angel replies, emotions of pure happiness overwhelming her entire body.

The two beings share a passionate kiss, full of love, in this moment of silence. Pure calm and solitude while Tom holds his dear queen softly in his arms and runs his hand over her growing belly. Neither of them have to say much in order to know what the other is thinking. This moment is not different.

The joyful laughers of their children in the background constantly remind them how grateful they both are to the Gods for allowing them such happiness.

* * * *

Finally the end of the day.

Tom feels beyond exhausted. As Harrison likes to stick to his plan as strict and a total pain in the ass as they usually are, his fellow demon friend assisted him during his afternoon’s duty in the throne room. All. Damn. Afternoon. Harrison didn’t let him have more than three-minute breaks because he wanted things to be done for good. And since the third heir is supposed to arrive in a few months, there was no way in Hell Harrison would let Tom increase his workload.

But now the night took place over the day long ago. The Underworld fell asleep little by little like the Castle itself. Tom exists the bathroom, heavy clouds of steam following him after an intense and thorough showering. The hot water helps his sore muscles to relax a bit, as he made a way too much good use of (Y/N)’s shower gel to erase the smell of blood and sweat stuck deeply in the pores of his body.

He lets out a sigh, his cheeks still red from the shower and finishs drying his buzzed head and neck with a towel. His wings moves from time to time to dry themselves from the remaining drops of water in them. Lazing throwing the towel back in the bathroom - hopefully in the laundry basket -, Tom adjusts his sweatpants and gazes at the silent and dark bedroom, guessing (Y/N) is still putting Dottie and Al to bed.

Taking advantage of it, the devil man flops down on the bed on his back. Sighing another time once he feels the fresh silk sheets under his skin, all his muscles even the thinest ones de-stress together. His wingspan unfolded is for sure impressive, covering all the bed in its length but the black feathers matching beautifully with the dark red silk sheets.

Complete silence. Only his slow breathing calming down as he closes his eyes, now taken into total darkness. Sometimes Tom remembers some of this kind of days, like today, when tones of judgements had to be done and then sentences to fall right after. And after he would just be like he is now, trying his best to empty his mind. Alone. And the next day, the same episode would repeat over and over again. Always alone.

But not anymore.

The faint click of the bedroom door opening takes Tom out of this thoughts as he slowly opens one eye to look towards it. Silently, (Y/N) appears and closes the door without a sound as soon as she steps a foot in the room. Then she turns to see her husband lazily laying on the bed, letting a little chuckle at the sight.

Such a pleasant sound. The demon King could hear his wife laugh all day, it is pure music to his ears and so much soothing. Sounding divine as looking heavenly.

Tom stares at (Y/N) from the bed noticing her wearing the bronze-nude coloured silk robe he offered her after Al’s birth, loosely tied up. This soft colour, almost looking gold, perfectly enhance her angelic figure as well as her magnificent white wings. His eyes then rakes over her body starting with her beautiful face to her shoulders then her voluptuous breasts, which now press more against the robe and finally down to the swelling of her stomach, which also stretches the silky fabric around her hips.

Tom bits his lip at this sight as he eyes the bump with a lustful look. In addition to not spending endless days and nights alone, feeling downhearted and helpless, (Y/N) is now blessing him with a third child, extending their happy family even more for both their enjoyment but also for the kingdom. The young man feels powerful like he never was, but mostly happy.

All this thanks to (Y/N) without whom nothing of this would have been possible.

“You’re done showering, darling?” asks the angel with her delicate voice, to which Tom simply nods. “Good. And the children are finally asleep.”

(Y/N) slightly stretches, a hand low on her back as she arches it to relieve some muscles. Recently Tom starts noticing some changes in his wife’s everyday life, such as flying more often when she could instead of walking, taking more naps and baths than usual, tiredness showing in her eyes or constantly stretching her back like right now. This being her third pregnancy it may seem understandable at some point, but Tom couldn’t help but worry about her well-being.

❞ Did you take a bath before lunch, love? ❞ wonders Tom as sitting normally on the bed.

“I did, yes but it only eased my back pain for two hours or so... And now, my stomach feels a bit swollen and heavy” sighs (Y/N), frowning a little.

She leans her head on one side while looking at Tom with an exasperated face. Her arms are crossed under her breasts, unintentionally opening the robe more on her accentuated cleavage. Being the perfect husband he is, Tom knows he has to do something... something that would help both of them, actually. It is like he almost planned in advance what is about to happen, wishing it with all his heart.

❞ Come here, sweetheart ❞ Tom breaths also tilting his head on his shoulder, his now hungry eyes never leaving (Y/N).

After slowly swaying her luscious hips while walking to him, (Y/N) then stops to stand in front of her husband, standing between his legs. She then could see his eyes darken as they trail down her body and stop at the swell of her belly that is now showing more than last month.

Knowing perfectly the effect she has on him, (Y/N) exhales longly which makes the robe slide from her shoulders and expose more skin of her upper body. She then run her left hand over the bump, the wedding ring shining brightly as it reflects naturally even with the lack of light in the room. Tom can’t help his hands to rest on the back of her thighs, fidgeting with the fabric of her robe still in between his caresses. Then the angel smiles when Tom’s mouth falls open to release a groan.

❞ Fuck. Get over here. Now. ❞

Tom pats his thigh and (Y/N) could just oblige, balancing her hands on both his shoulders. He grins up at his wife as she climbs onto his laps, both legs on the outside of his thighs to straddle him.

Immediately his hands find their way to her hips, still caressing a little over the silk material of the robe before he just unties it. And Tom couldn’t suppress the satisfied grin on his face as her matching nightgown appears in front of him. His angel being pregnant makes the fabric tighten around her breast and stomach, as much as its slightly raises to mid-thigh.

Tom then guides her to sit fully down on his thighs and chuckles when she sighs at the feeling. (Y/N) slowly flaps her white wings and takes her robe fully off, even around them, the clothing item cascading along her arms before falling at Tom’s feet.

❞ Comfortable like this? ❞ the demon asks cautiously, eyeing his wife’s face for any indication as to how she is feeling or what she is thinking about.

(Y/N) looks down at him with a small smile on her face, nodding. The chill air in the bedroom gives her goosebumps. She traces her hands over his broad shoulders, not without admiring his naked and muscular torso, before wandering her delicate fingers at the base of his nape. Tom’s eyes close once he feels her start to massage his buzzed scalp, and hums in pleasure.

He always loves to feel her hands on him, in general. It never fails to make his "friend down there” throb from excitement.

❞ (Y/N)… ❞

Tom whispers as he reaches up to grab the angel’s left hand before bringing it to his lips. He places a soft kiss on the golden ring, powerful symbol of their love and union, before brushing his rough but still soft lips over her knuckles. He turns her hand over so he can drag his lips across the gentle skin of her wrists, as his eyes stare deeply at her face.

When his lips continue to brush higher on her arm, he hears a sigh leave (Y/N)’s plush lips and watches as her eyes suddenly drop closed. Tom smiles softly against her skin.

❞ My beautiful wife and queen... ❞ he mumbles, never stopping his trail up the skin of her arm before moving to the other one, doing the same straight away. ❞ The strongest woman I know... So selfless... ❞ Tom pulls away from her skin to thread his fingers through her long hair and cradles the back of her neck in his hands.

❞ ... and all mine. ❞

With such sudden fervour, Tom brings (Y/N)’s mouth to his and kisses her, long and passionate. The angel melt in his arms, following his every lead as he bites her bottom lip. (Y/N) willingly opens your mouth to allow his tongue to battle with hers. She gasps in his mouth when he removes a hand from her hair to cradle her bottom, pulling her closer to him.

“T-Tom” she moans, kissing her husband with such urgency.

In all honesty, they did not have sex in two months - if not more which may be more actually and quite surprising - because taking care of one child is kinda alright, but two... is completely another story. And ever since (Y/N) got pregnant of their third one, Tom also had a lot of work to deal with while Dottie and Al still need a lot of attention. Constantly. So basically both adults were lately busy every day, the intimate time passing after anything else... and being almost forgotten, in then end.

Until now (Y/N) has not noticed how much she actually missed feeling Tom’s hot skin against her bare body. Being intimate with him is something otherworldly because, on top of knowing her body so well, the young woman feels secure in his arms. She always had. And in return, Tom would use that to his advantage whenever he wants to show (Y/N) exactly how he feels about her.

There is never a day that (Y/N) would ever get sick of being with the King of Hell, her husband. Totally unthinkable.

❞ You have no clue what you do to me, doll ❞ he growls, pulling away from her lips to trail his kisses across her jaw. ❞ I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you... How I got so lucky... ❞ Tom whispers against her ear before returning to ravish the skin of her neck with his teeth and tongue.

(Y/N) moans breathlessly when his tongue drags across her sweet spot before he sucks the patch of skin between his teeth.

“I’m the the lucky one, baby” she breathes out, bringing her hands back to his head. “You’ve been through so much all these past years, and yet you still find time for me and our children, even when I may not be in the best mood. There is no luckier person here than me.”

Tom’s eyes begin to burn as he pulls away from her neck and places his forehead against hers to look straight in the eyes.

❞ The shit I’ve put you through is nothing anyone should have to ever go through, and yet you’ve handled it all with such grace. Like the perfect Queen you are. There’s no one I admire and cherish more than you, (Y/N). You mean the world to me, darling. ❞

His hands move to cover the expanse of her swollen belly underneath her nightgown as he starts to caress the skin with his thumbs.

❞ You, Dottie, Al and this baby. ❞

Her lip trembles at his words, vision growing blurry with fresh tears. The love (Y/N) has for this man is indescribable. There were no words ever created to explain everything he means to her. He is everything she has ever needed and so much more. And knowing that he loves his kids just as much is definitely one of the best feelings in the world.

“God, I can’t even describe how much you mean to me, Tom. Truly, words do not compare” (Y/N) whispers to him, lips brushing against his as he smiles.

❞ Oh trust me, I know exactly how you feel ❞ the devil man chuckles, running his hands up and down her sides beneath the fabric.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Pure calm and solitude while Tom hold (Y/N) in his arms and ran his hands over her body. By now the two of them spent enough time together to memorise each other’s conducts during certain times. So, once Tom breathes softly against her neck, she knows the angel has to hear for herself exactly what is going through his head.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” (Y/N) inquires, pulling away to clearly see his face.

His coffee eyes are still dark, his chest heaving against her lush one. He could still feel her clothed heat against his thighs and now that they are so close, he could feel her stomach flat against his, the bump brushing against his naked abs.

He chuckles breathily before running a hand on top of his head, which creates a scratching noice under his palm.

❞ Would it be crude of me to say that your swollen stomach makes me hard? ❞

(Y/N) gasps in shock at his words, not expecting them in the slightest. Tom looks up at his angelic wife with a mischievous glint in his honey brown orbs, and she couldn’t help but then giggle at his typical cheeky attitude.

“It would but then again, you wouldn’t be Tom if you weren’t at least a little crude at times” she teases as she laughs when he feigns offense.

❞ Ooh you are in for it now, angel! ❞

Suddenly Tom chides before grabbing (Y/N) by the thighs and gently roll their bodies onto the bed, him being now on top of her. The angel squeals at the same time, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and arms winding around his neck.

He smiles down at her before moving down to kiss her, his lips gliding effortlessly against her mouth. The demon king loves to take her breath away with just a touch of his lips. Tom smiles against the angel’s lips while still gliding his lips across hers.

❞ Hope you’re ready, I’m about to rock the world of my gorgeous pregnant queen tonight ❞ Tom grins widely when (Y/N) lets out a loud laugh at his words.

“You’re being cheesy tonight, I see?” she giggles, her cheeks stretching widely to accommodate to the large grin on her perfect face.

Tom admires the glint of happiness in her eyes, with an ounce of mischief too, and tries to process the fact that he is the one and only man making this divine creature beneath him so happy.

❞ Yeah but I mean, you love that about me ❞ the man smirks, kissing (Y/N) on the corners of her mouth then cheeks, forehead and lastly her nose. ❞ And you signed up to it all when you married me so, no going back now pretty lady.❞

Her eyes flutter because of all his kisses, then she smiles softly at her husband.

“Oh yes, I did” she chuckles before continuing “And I love you with all my heart. And I always will” (Y/N) whispers, cupping his cheeks in her delicate hands before running her fingers over his defined cheekbones and jawline.

Tom can’t stop his eyes from burning with passion as his wife proclames her love for him once again.

❞ I love you ❞ he mumbles before capturing her lips for a passionate kiss.

Tom navigates his body fully between her legs, swallowing the strangled moan his angel release when he rolls his hips against her sore one. He then begins to push the silk fabric of her nightgown up to finally reveal her stomach, before he proceeds to cradle her soft visage in one hand while he places the other flat against her round and swollen belly.

He just growls when he feels the bump against his warm palm and pulls away from (Y/N)’s lips. He continues by devouring her neck as he pushes the nightdress higher up to reveal your bare breasts. The demon pulls away from her neck and stares down at her tempting curves and groans, his cock twitching at the sight.

❞ So fucking gorgeous ❞ Tom states breathlessly, reaching up to engulf gently her sensitive breasts in his large hands to massage them. His cock hardens and twitches again when (Y/N) moans from his touch, arching her back and rolling her hips against his to create some friction.

Tom grunts as he feels (Y/N) drag her hips against his still clothed hard-on and decides that both of them are wearing too many clothes for his liking.

He removes his hands from her breasts and tugs the nightdress over her head. The angel then leans up in order to let him take it off entirely, her white wings adjusting on her back. At the same time she also enjoys the sight of him, already standing half naked over her, his perfectly sculpted chest and abs making her bite her lip and almost drool.

Her husband is indeed handsome, breathtakingly beautiful, the scars on his back and shoulders only magnifying that beauty. Every time (Y/N) sees the multiple cuts he tried to hide at the beginning, all she wants to do is kiss every single one to remind her king that he should never be ashamed of them. Ever.

(Y/N) unconsciously licks her lips as she admires him. Tom catches it and smirks down at his wife, newfound confidence surging through his veins. She never fails to make him feel good about himself. One simple look needed and he could tell (Y/N) loves him no matter the scars on his body or who he is.

❞ Like what ya see, gorgeous? ❞ Tom rasps as he runs his hands up her sides, smirking when he feels her shiver beneath his touch.

“Always, baby.”

(Y/N) watches as he smiles ardently at her before he reaches up to cup her right cheek in his hand. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone and then drags the pad of his calloused finger across her bottom lip. The angel slightly turns her head into his palm and starts leaving open mouthed kisses onto it, as her hands wrap around his wrist to maintain him in place.

His eyes darken as watches (Y/N) starts lightly biting the skin of his palm, and then giving it little kitten licks. Tom curses softly when he feels his cock twitch painfully in his now too tight sweatpants, and he knows he can’t wait any longer.

Tom wants her so bad. He needs to have her. Right here, right now. Just the thought of feeling her wet insides flutter around his pulsing member takes the demon to some unholy places in his mind. And he loves it.

Almost reluctantly Tom removes his hand from her mouth and bends down to sloppily lick one of your sensitive nipples.

He hears (Y/N) gasp loudly before he sees her back arch, pushing her breast further into his mouth as he wraps his lips around the now hardening bud.

“Aah, Tommy-” she moans, trying her best to grind her hips against his.

When Tom feels her struggling to get some relief, he pulls away from her nipple with a loud ‘pop’. The angel starts letting out little whines at the loss of his hot tongue on her body.

❞ Worry not, my Queen ❞ Tom says huskily as he finally decides to tug her thin lace panties down her impeccable legs, revealing the secret garden that is her dripping heat to his hungry eyes. ❞ I will take good care of you, like I always do. ❞

He doesn’t tear his lustful gaze away from her, in awe as (Y/N) pants loudly underneath him. Tom then removes his sweatpants, not caring to untie them before hand, the fabric falling on the ground to now expose his naked glory because he definitely went commando after his shower.

The young queen gasps at the obscene yet erotic sight of his hard cock staying flat against his stomach, the tip red and swollen, leaking precum. She feels wetness pool between her legs and just moan, eyeing his hand as it wraps around his length and begins to pump slowly.

Tom eyes (Y/N)’s body hungrily from above her, moving his unoccupied hand to her pussy where he spreads her wet lips to rub her clit with his thumb, not without paying close attention to any sign of discomfort coming from his pregnant wife.

(Y/N) squeals, rolling her hips against his hand as much as her body allows her to, while Tom drags his fingers between her folds and massages her clit. When the angel feels him enter one finger into her clenching hole, she throws her head back and arches even more against his hand.

❞ Fuck baby girl, you are so wet ❞ Tom groans, pumping his hand faster around his cock.

“Tommy- Oh my-!” (Y/N) nearly screams when he adds another finger and pumps them harder and deeper into her warm insides.

Tom’s eyes widen when he looks back at her round stomach, which moves rapidly up and down as she breathes deeply. He feels his cock twitch in his hand and lets out a rough grunt, suddenly taking his fingers out of her core and removing his hand from himself.

❞ That’s it, I can’t fucking take anymore ❞ he growls, positioning himself between (Y/N)’s legs. He then gently grabs the back of her knees to pull her towards him, the angel whining when his hard cock brushes close to her core.

“Please take me, Tommy. I’m all yours, please” (Y/N) moans as she rolls her hips against his cock.

Tom feels like coming straight away but he resists somehow, instead brushing his pulsing member between her wet folds and flicking the head against her clit.

The demon king hovers over his wife’s body, placing his forehead against hers and balancing on his arms on each side of her head as he places the tip of his cock at her entrance. He looks into her bright eyes when he slowly enters the angel, her walls stretching deliciously around him.

Both beings moan in unison before Tom leans down to capture (Y/N)’s lips, swallowing every choked cries and whines as he begins to thrust in and out of her.

“Ooh Tommy, oh, aah-” she gasps breathlessly when he slams his hips into her bloated one.

❞ (Y/N)- ❞ Tom moans in return, pulling away to drop his head on her shoulder. He kisses the soft skin of her shoulder before thrusting faster and groaning into her skin. ❞ You are the best thing that ever happened to me, baby girl. ❞

His words bring tears to her eyes, thanks to the messy pregnant’s hormones,  and (Y/N) almost releases a cry as she pushes her hips in hope to meet with his thrusts. She can feel every ridge and thick vein of his cock as he drives it into her and the purely euphoric feeling makes her dizzy. The angel grabs onto Tom, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and running a hand through his entire face, his thrusts intensifying even more.

“You are my world, Tommy. I love your more than anything and I promise to stay by your side until the end of the world” (Y/N) moans in his ear, reassuring him.

Tom grunts at his wife’s words, all kind of emotions mixing up in his head as he makes love to (Y/N). Suddenly, he slows his pace a little so now he is rocking into her deep and hard. She whines desperately at this change, grinding against his skin.

The demon pulls himself up so he can look between their bodies, carefully watching as he thrusts slowly in and out of her wet pussy. Then his brown eyes land on her visible baby bump and Tom feels himself pulse inside of her as his eyes roll into his head. He moans loudly, moving a hand between both their bodies to flatten it against her stomach.

❞ Shit angel, I’m s-so lucky to have you... The four of you” Tom almost whines, rolling his hips harder into hers as his pelvic now brushes against her clit.

“Tommy, I’m so close! Aah-” (Y/N) cries out at the feeling and throw her head back, arching against him more.

She then gasps when he growls violently before speeding up his thrusts again and literally drilling into her. (Y/N) grabs onto him tightly and drags her nails against his scalp, stealing a grunt from his chest.

Tom sloppily links his lips with hers when he feels the angel clench tightly around him, so he thrusts deeper and faster before moving the hand that was on her stomach to her clit.

❞ Come for me, my gorgeous wife. My gorgeous queen. Come for me ❞ Tom growls in her ear, rubbing her clit vigorously.

(Y/N) screams at the never stopping stimulation. Her legs start trembling and body shaking as she clenches around his member, coating his cock in cum as she finally reaches her orgasm. Tom watches closely as she comes undone beneath him and lets out a moan, his hips faltering as he releases his seed inside of her tight insides.

He flattens his hand on her belly, feeling the warm and sweaty skin of her baby bump again and comes harder, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself to be too vocal this late at night. Endless streams of his come splash against her walls, their juices mixing together, and Tom rides out both their orgasms until he just collapses his upper body on top of (Y/N).

“Oh lord, Tom, you’re heavy!” the angel huffs as she then giggles at her husband.

Tom only hums in response, his voice slightly hoarse from their previous activity, while wrapping his strong arms around her body. But not feeling too well in this position - also not to accidentally hurt (Y/N) -, Tom slowly lets himself slide on the sheet to now snuggle up against his wife’s frame, remaining inside of her.

(Y/N) looks up at him through her post-orgasmic vision and is pleased to notice him just cuddling onto her with closed eyes, his chest heaving with exhaustion. As a kind smile makes its way to her face, she leans up to kiss his jaw which makes him sigh gently.

“You are amazing Tom, in every way. An amazing king, husband and father. I am so proud of you” (Y/N) softly whispers to him, brushing delicately her fingers against his cheek.

The angel then proceeds to move her hand higher and massage his head, feeling the short buzzed hair brush her palm and paying extra attention to his nape, a bit sweaty. After enjoying her pleasant caresses, Tom opens one of his eyes to peak at the angel.

❞ I would be nothing without you, baby. Just useless, an empty envelop with no reason to live. ❞

(Y/N) looks absolutely breathtaking to him, and since the day they met. The amazing post-orgasmic glow that suits her so well is something he could look at for years. Her lips swollen and impossibly red like her cheeks, hair a mess and eyes half closed. And not forgetting her naked figure which the demon loves to worship during these intimate times, shining with sweat but still an absolute delicacy that only him can savour as he wants.

(Y/N) can feel him start to get slightly hard again when he brushes his fingers over her pregnant stomach. As his face never leaves its comfy place on her chest, the demon king silently wishes to feel his unborn heir move under his touch. His wife continues to leave kisses on his sweaty forehead, closing her tired eyes, almost falling asleep in the lovely embrace of her husband.

❞ ... I’m guessing your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore? ❞

Intrigued by this question, (Y/N) slowly reopens her eyes to lower her gaze on Tom’s face. As she raises her eyebrows, she has no time to answer before Tom speaks again.

❞ Sex is definitely THE best option to ease pregnancy pains. Not like I’m gonna complain about it. ❞

"You better prepare a warm bubbly bath for us and carry me there, before I get upset” states (Y/N), her cheeks even redder now because of Tom’s stupid comment.

And the devil king can’t suppress his cheeky smirk as his wife avoids his gaze, still being cute.

❞ Your wish is my command, my Queen! ❞

* * * *

The bedroom is still plunged into darkness, but the daylight manages to make its way through an open spot left by the curtains. Humming as she slowly wakes up, (Y/N) blinks a few times before staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. Her hands go to her belly by instinct, massaging it as she draws circles on it, before she turns her head towards Tom.

Still fast asleep, the demon king did not move since they both went to sleep - after taking another bath together and dressing up for the night. His build frame stays on the side, an arm under (Y/N)’s head and his free hand resting at the bottom of her now covered stomach.

(Y/N) brushes her plump lips on his chin to then leave a light kiss on his lips, carefully to not wake him up. She links one of her hands with his own that stays on her stomach, intertwining their fingers.

But as the young queen tries to fall back asleep, her mother’s intuition goes on alert and her head turns towards the door of the bedroom. No sound can be heard on the other side of the room, only a deep and calm silence that resonates in the whole castle. When suddenly...

*tap tap tap*

The almost faint noise of footsteps slowly increase in the corridor, now catching the full attention of (Y/N). One corner of her lips raises, perfectly knowing the owners of this sound. Tom still being in the arms of Morpheus, mouth parted enough to let some soft snores at times, the angel prefers to not move until the “special guests” make their final appearance.

And speak of the devil (no pun intended, or not)...

The doorknob starts to slowly turn, creating a quick and discreet ‘click’ which allows the door to finally open. (Y/N) keeps watching closely towards it, trying to see through the half-open door. And as expected, a double pair of eyes can be seen, a bit sleepy, and little by little two very familiar round faces appear.

Dottie and Al immediately find their mother’s eyes as if asking for her permission to enter the matrimonial bedroom. After warmly allowing both her children with a nod and a smile, the two tiny beings make their way inside, Dottie making sure to silently close the door behind her little brother and her, and then fly together towards their parents.

As they kiss their mother on the cheek and tummy - because they already care a lot about their unborn brother or sister -, little Al notices his father still sound asleep between the sheets. Not needing to be asked twice, the little boy careful goes between both his parents’ bodies and tries to make himself some place as he goes under the cover. Tom lightly groans at the movements next to him, but only secures his grip tighter around his wife plus now his young son. (Y/N) then opens the sheets with her free hand, inviting her daughter to join their cuddle. Dottie goes also under the warm sheet, getting close to her mum and snuggling against her. Feeling yet another presence in the bed, Tom’s hand which already maintain (Y/N) and Al close to him now reaches for his daughter.

The silence of the early morning remains still. (Y/N) lets out a pleased sigh, getting even more confortable between the soft warmth of the bed and her loving family. Slowly, sleep overcomes her and her children all over again, soon joining the head of the family for another resting time into dreamland.

Who could have thought about having this delightful type of afterlife?

* * * *

Ten months later.

.

.

« « Who’s the most beautifuuuuuul baby of all time? » »

❞ Give me back my daughter, Z... ❞

Happy babbles echo in the living room, animated first by Tom who tries to take back his five-month daughter Mia from Zendaya’s grasp, and on the other hand Dottie and Al playing together next to the group of adults.

(Y/N) sat on the large couch next to her husband, giggling at his attitude as he almost makes grabby hands to Zendaya, hoping she would finally give the newly born child to him. (Y/N) lovingly caresses his back, getting close to him and eyeing her third child in the arms of her trustful friend from Heaven.

“Thank you for visiting us, Zendaya” begins (Y/N), “Mia seems to like you already.”

« « Obviously she loves her godmother a lot, right little one? » » smiles Zendaya as she keeps smiling widely to the baby, tickling her tummy to make little Mia show her toothless smile again.

Tom couldn’t help the grown leaving his mouth, lightly banging his head against (Y/N)’s. The angel queen kisses his temple in hope of appeasing her husband’s pouting face.

On Mia’s back, two tiny wings start growing slowly. The colour of her feathers is still undetermined but it may be a mix of white and black ones, like her eldest sister and brother. Mia’s features will for sure be a beautiful mix of her parents, her eyes already big and kind like her mother’s and deep brown like her father’s.

Harrison enters the living room, bringing a rolling cart with different drinks and delicacies on it. Both Dottie and Al stop playing as they hear it coming their way, their throat dry and little stomach empty after so much playtime. Dottie stands first and waits for Harrison to stop the cart, meanwhile Al goes to his father asking for some attention. The demon king immediately takes his son in his arms, sitting him on his laps.

‘Can I get some apple juice for Al and I, please Haz?’ Dottie politely asks the demon.

‘ Of course, dear. Right away. ‘

Dottie brings the first glass to her brother, carefully passing it in his little hands before asking the others if they want to drink something too.

“Just a glass of water for me, sweetheart. Dad will share his wine with me.”

❞ Hmm, I still need to think about that, beautiful ❞ replies Tom with a cheeky tone, while slowly kissing his wife’s cheek which makes her chuckle.

« « Don’t get all lovey-dovey in front of your kids, dammit. Gross, ew! Al, look at auntie Daya. » »

❞ Don’t swear in front of my children! ❞

Once everyone got served their drink, Dottie flies back to her mother to sit on her laps, enjoying her apple juice as she vividly looks at everyone but mostly at her new little sister. Then Harrison prepares two little plates to fill with some homemade cakes for both his godchildren.

❞ Honestly, Harrison is killin’ it at being a good godfather with the kids. They might start loving him more than you if you- ❞

« « Shut up, Hell Boy » » interrupts Zendaya, upset but still with her usual sass.

“The kids would love to see you more often, Zendaya” softly takes part (Y/N) while sipping into Tom’s wine glass before giving it back to him.

Zendaya deeply sighs and looks at little Mia catching Al’s index finger into her tiny fist. She brushes the baby’s wild growing hair back while caressing the tender rosy skin with her finger, not helping the smile on her face.

« « I know, (Y/N) and I want to but sometimes, I’m just overflowing under work. It’s not easy to be a Superior Angel, trust me. » »

❞ Being the King of Hell AND a father at the same time is not easy either, trust me on that ❞ sighs Tom back, ❞ But I’ve never been happier so I can’t complain at all. ❞

Tom smiles lovingly at (Y/N), making the angel sit closer to him and snuggle her face against his. Dottie also cuddles with Al as the two siblings look at little Mia, who constantly watches around anything that happens.

The scene warms Zendaya’s heart.

« « Also, you are all welcome to come to Heaven, you know that, right? Mostly because of business talk and all that jazz, but the Superiors would be glad to meet little Mia too » » continues Zendaya as she strokes Mia’s cheek.

“We were actually discussing about it with Tom the other day” says (Y/N), sorting out the feather’s mess of her children because of their last playing session. “Dottie and Al want to visit Heaven again too, am I right?”

‘YES PLEASE!’ both Dottie and Al screams together, little Al saying something like that because he is still too young to talk properly.

(Y/N) and Zendaya laugh at so much energy coming from the children. As Tom put his now empty glass away, he nods to Harrison to join them on the couch as he slides an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and kisses her cheek.

Heaven and Hell might be opposite places with different rules and ways of thinking.

But in the end, they both have the same goal: giving the right afterlife to people, and fixing their faults when mistakes were done.

.

.

- - -   END OF ‘HEAVENLY YOURS’ MINI SERIES  - - -

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[thelovelyghostwriter]

(via https://open.spotify.com/playlist/52aFxZiF6IhgLaj8Zzj3hU?si=2HFVzdSQT0WZ_fxe4gNniQ)

1. Million Dollar Man by Lana del Ray

You're screwed up and brilliant Look like a million dollar man So why is my heart broke?

We all know Kurapika is now the Nostrade Family Young Boss. He provides the money for Neon now by revamping their business model. He literally saved her family from financial crisis, he can provide her anything, she likes him a lot no matter how messed up he is - but why is she still “broke”.

2. National Anthem by Lana del Ray

Money is the reason we exist Everybody knows it, it's a fact (Kiss, kiss)

This song talks about the excess of materials, drugs, drinking, wealth and sex. A girl having a rich handsome man that gives her everything and he can’t keep her hands off of her. Sounds like Kurapika being in the mafia underworld and making tons of money; Neon bathing materialism as both gets drunk in love and sex? Heck yeah.

3. Young and Beautiful by Lana del Ray

Will you still love me when I'm no longer Young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing But my achin' soul?

This is the theme song for movie The Great Gatsby. @anotherworldash​ always paralleled the relationships between Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan with Kurapika and Neon. Gatsby desired Daisy because she represents the old money wealth that Gatsby longed for as a child. He became rich through illegal activities. Kurapika desired adventure and for their eyes to be appreciated (and not called a demon for it), which Neon appreciates their eyes as beautiful (even though now it’s in a twisted way. Daisy and Neon are very similar characters who bathes in materialism because they are despondent.

4. Dress by Taylor Swift

Only bought this dress so you could take it off.

Her wedding dress on their wedding night when they finally consummate their marriage. Duh.

5. Daddy Issues by Demi Lovato

Addicted to love with the wrong one Lucky for you, I got all these daddy issues

100% Neon and her daddy issues. She’s always with insane messed up men like Kurapika and also Chrollo because she never had a good upbringing to begin with.

6. Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding and Earned It by The Weekend

Are we going to put more saucy 50 Shades of Grey OSTs for this hot pairing? Heck yeah we are.

7. A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human.

She sought death on a queen-sized bed And he had said, "Darling, your looks can kill, So now you're dead."

This one’s interesting. So the title is based on the French phrase La petite mort  to describe post-orgasm. The song describes two people having sex, finding solace in one another and “experiencing death”. Kurapika and Neon are two wounded souls - Kurapika’s tragic past and Neon’s lack of love from her father.

Also, Nostrade is from Nostradamus - a French astrologer, physician and reputed seer. I can totally see Neon speaking to Kurapika in French. OOF sexy.

T’as d’beaux yeux, tu sais? (You have beautiful eyes, you know?)

8. Requiem Arena, The Phantom Elegy and Kurapika’s Theme aka Hiiro no Hitom (Hunter x Hunter OST)

I know the first two are the Phantom Troupe theme songs, but this also reminds me of YorkNew City arc and Kurapika so yes it’s gonna be here.

9. Afterglow by Taylor Swift

I lived like an island, punished you with silence Went off like sirens, just crying Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

This gives me imagination if Kurapika and Neon ever gets into quarrels, and Neon feels guilty about her petty tantrums because she doesn’t want to lose him.

10. Run To You by Whitney Houston

OMFG. This song is 100% KuraNeon bodyguard-boss situation. So this song was actually from this movie called The Bodyguard (1992). It’s a story about a celebrity in danger, so she hired a bodyguard to protect her. Both don’t really like each other at first, but they eventually fall in love. Sounds like Kurapika and Neon? YES! This was actually the movie that made me think KuraNeon is possible.

The first verse describes Neon:

I know that when you look at me There's so much that you just don't see But if you would only take the time I know in my heart you'd find A girl who's scared sometimes Who isn't always strong Can't you see the hurt in me? I feel so all alone

Neon is actually a really lonely girl and locked up in the bubble. She may be smiling, but deep down she’s not okay.

The second verse describes Kurapika:

Each day, each day I play the role Of someone always in control But at night I come home and turn the key There's nobody there, no one cares for me What's the sense of trying hard to find your dreams Without someone to share it with Tell me what does it mean?

Kurapika always appear calm and stoic, but really, he has a sad past. His sole purpose now is to collect his brethren’s Eyes, and to take revenge. But does that make him happy? No, he’s lonely too. Don’t worry Pika you can collect the Scarlet Eyes with Neon.

11. Love Theme and Apollonia (The Godfather movie OST)

What’s a KuraNeon song without a mafia-themed love song?

12. California King Bed by Rihanna

So confused wanna ask you if you love me But I don't wanna seem so weak

I always have this headcanon (and also some other shippers) that their relationship will start off as something physical attraction first? Then it grows from there when both of them starts blurring the lines. 

13. Pavane for A Dead Princess 

Okay, this is classical music is just... we don’t really know if Neon is dead in the current arc (although I believe that she’s not dead and Chrollo’s speculation is only a false narrative). 

But if Togashi does decide to kill her off, I think this song is so fitting for her. Given that she has Princess Syndrome. 

Even if Neon’s alive, I don’t think she is living the best life. Personally, I think she’s a princess-sy girl with a dead soul. She collects dead body parts because she has no sympathy for the dead, partly because of her upbringing. Very interesting. 

This classical music is actually my inspiration for Melody’s music box gift for Neon in Chapter 4 of my KuraNeon fanfic https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963668/chapters/70030809

14. All Too Well by Taylor Swift 

Okay, this is the one song I always think of if I’m going to write about Kurapika leaving Neon for the Dark Continent. 

Maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece Till you tore it all up

This is a very powerful breakup song, and one of Taylor Swift’s best! (I’m a Tay fan actually). 

15. King of My Heart by Taylor Swift 

Is the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we're spending Up on the roof with a school girl crush Drinking beer out of plastic cups Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

We all know Kurapika is the King of Neon’s heart. <3 

16. Lucky by Britney Spears

If there’s nothing missing in her life, then why do tears come at night? 

Not really a KuraNeon song, but more for Neon. She seems like a rich girl, but she’s lonely and incomplete deep down. Her father is using her as a cash cow, much like how Britney Spear’s situation is right now. 

17. For the Love of A Daughter by Demi Lovato

Don't you remember, I'm your baby girl? How could you throw me right out of your world? So young when the pain had begun Now forever afraid of being loved

This song... gets me so sad. Not really a KuraNeon song but I think it describes Neon’s situation with her father a bit, particularly this verse. 

Okay, I will continue explaining the rest soon. 

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“To bring order to a disordered world was the detective’s job.”

Nanteuil-la-Forêt, Marne, France – June 1848

~Cedric~

The bed looked untouched; it was arranged exactly like Cedric’s when he had arrived. There was nothing on the desk, nothing on the bedside cabinet. Nothing hung on the clothes hooks, and there was no suitcase in sight. There were no move-marks from the nearby armchair on the carpet; no slight body-mark in the pillow.

When Cedric had stepped over the threshold, coldness had washed over him even before he had taken a closer look at the orderliness of the room. The room was significantly colder than the corridors, and the fireplace inside it did not look like it had been used recently although it had been fairly cold lately.

At least, there was really neither an adjourning room nor a divider.

“Duke Kristopher?” said Anaïs, and Cedric flinched when she spoke to him. “Is something wrong?” she asked and walked from the desk to him. Before she reached him, Milton hurried forward and wrapped an arm around her. Surprised, Anaïs blinked at him. “I will handle this,” Milton said, his voice strangely breathless, and gently pushed her back to Gérard and Arnaud. Then, he went to Cedric and closed the door.

“Are you all right, Kristopher?” Milton wanted to know. His voice still sounded a bit shaky, and he dug his fingers into his palm. “Do you want to sit down? Lie down?”

Cedric looked at him in bewilderment. “I’m okay.”

Milton nodded absentmindedly and walked to his bed and knelt in front of it. He reached under it and – to Cedric’s slight relief – pulled out a suitcase. He retrieved a smaller case from it before he put the suitcase back. With a heavy strait, Milton headed to the desk and sat down. Cedric went to join the others, and Arnaud put the birdcage clock on the table.

Milton took a deep breath, then unlocked the case with an odd key to reveal numerous tools. They were perfectly polished and neatly arranged, and Cedric did not recognise most of them. He could only make out some screwdrivers, a hammer, and a little saw, but there were many, many more, and he could only wonder how they could all fit into such a small space. From his jacket pockets, Milton took a pair of white gloves which he put on before he started to inspect the clock. Milton was focused in a way Cedric had never seen before. The nervous energy that constantly flowed through him seemed gone, and he sat there perfectly still and calm while he scrutinised the broken clock. The children must have noticed Milton’s strange calmness too as they silently spectated him work as if they did not dare to interrupt him.

While everyone’s attention was on the birdcage clock, Cedric sneakily stepped back to glimpse into the wardrobe and the drawers of the bedside table which were all empty. When he went back to the others, Milton had already opened the cage and taken out the bird. Now, he turned the cage around to open the casing and look inside. He took a good look at the cogs and wires before he went to work. It was wondrous to see him work so meticulously. With quick, swift movements Milton alternated between various tools which he used on the clock. Although Cedric was undoubtedly interested in this process, he could not help himself but drift away now and then.

Not that he could make out much anyway: Cedric saw Milton doing things, but, for the life of him, he did not know what he was doing. While blissfully ignorant spectating was a lovely thing in many cases, it certainly wasn’t when one was halfway to dreamland. Cedric snoozed off for a few minutes at most and when he jolted awake again, Milton had moved on from the inner workings of the clock and was now putting back the bird. With a few more skilled movements, it was done, and Milton closed the cage. He waited a moment, and everyone held their breaths.

Then, Milton turned on the birdcage clock.

And metallic sing-song filled the air.

The bird, now perched on a top again, moved its beak and head and sang its melody which sounded only a little bit off to be true birdsong; and the clockhands had been set in motion too. The children jumped around happily, and Cedric could only stare at the now again intact clock, entranced by its uncanny song and in disbelief about what Milton had accomplished.

“That’s amazing! How can you do that, Baron Milton?” asked Anaïs.

“A lot of practice and…” Milton began, his eyes glowing as they had in the corridor, but then he interrupted himself and the glow vanished. He and Cloudia displayed the same enthusiasm for what they loved; only Cloudia’s was persistent while Milton’s was always cut short. “I was a very bored child,” Milton continued and packed his utensils in his case and locked it. “And you do not have to call me ‘Baron’ or ‘Lord,’ Miss Anaïs.”

Anaïs put her hands on her hips. It was a funny gesture on someone so small and young. “Only if you stop calling me ‘Miss Anaïs.’”

“Of course,” he replied, and she beamed. “Is it simply Milton then or may I call you something else too? Am I allowed to give you a nickname?”

Arnaud blinked at her, seemingly horrified at the request and familiarity, but didn’t say anything.

“I allow you to give me one,” Milton told her, and Anaïs jumped up and down. “Thanks! It has to be something cute…” She weighted her head left and right. “How about ‘Millie’?”

Milton tensed a little bit. “Could… could you please pick another nickname?”

“Why?” asked Anaïs.

“It…” Milton fumbled with his toolbox. “It’s only that my father used to call me that.”

“‘Used to,’” she repeated before it dawned on her and she put her hands over her mouth. “I apologise. I didn’t want to…”

“It is all right,” he assured her. “How could you have known?” Milton stood up and took the case from the desk. Milton returned his toolbox to his suitcase and then looked at Anaïs who still seemed uneasy. “All is fine, Anaïs. I could never be upset with you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiled. “You may pick any other nickname.”

Anaïs returned his smile. “I’ll think of one!”

Milton’s smile widened a little before he turned to the singing clock, and as soon as his gaze fell on it, the shine from before reappeared in his eyes. “I still cannot believe it,” he said dreamily to no one in particular. For a moment, Cedric wondered if he should interrupt Milton to spare him any potential embarrassment that might grow from his absentminded monologue, but he decided against it. After all, Milton usually did a fine job cutting himself off – and Cedric wanted to see if Milton’s enthusiasm could hold firm.

Milton picked up the birdcage clock and turned it in his hands. “Automata,” he said. “A fascinating subject that has kept humankind busy since ancient times. How could they not? Artificially created life – or, at least, life-like entities. Clockwork birds have been reportedly designed since the Hellenistic Period, but then there’s the legend of King Solomon’s throne and its mechanical animals which is, of course, dated much earlier. Even if it may only be a story, it is still a testament to people’s continuous fascination with automata.

“And then we have this lovely piece,” Milton continued and turned to Cedric with the clock in his hands. “Born 1721. Died 1790. Pierre Jaquet-Droz. His ancestors were from the Brandt-dit-Grieurin, Sandoz, and Robert families of clockmakers, and this made him pursue this craft, this art, as well – and we can only be blessed that he did as he is one of the, maybe even the, best creators of automata of all time. His first singing birdcage came out in 1780 and featured a miniature pipe organ; each pipe was for a different note. He and his partner later exchanged the pipe organ with a chamber whose size was altered by the movement of a piston.

“While Jaquet-Droz’s career is astonishing, it was fuelled by tragedy: He lost both his wife and daughter in short succession and, in his sadness, fully dedicated himself to his work.” Milton placed the clock back on his desk but did not let go just now. “Still, although he became internationally famous after he created six magnificent pendulum clocks for the Spanish king and his court and went on to present his crafts to various other kings and queens and even the Chinese emperor, he did not neglect his only living child, his son Henri-Louis. Instead, they worked together, and Jaquet-Droz made him the director of his workshop in London. Jean-Frédéric Leschot, Jaquet-Droz’s partner, was also his adoptive son. It was a family business that flourished despite its tragic history.

“But their success did not last forever. Towards the end of Jaquet-Droz’s life, they lost their partners in China and London. Their business started to show losses, and Jaquet-Droz moved to Biel where he died. A year later, his son Henri-Louis and his daughter-in-law died on a journey. Leschot, now all alone, worked hard to keep the business afloat, but the revolution and Napoleon’s Continental System led to the eventual ruin of Jaquet-Droz & Leschot.”

“Out of your system, hm?” said Cedric and leaned against the desk. The sudden flush of wakefulness was beginning to wane, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavy.

Milton abruptly let go of the clock as if it had stung him and craned his head to Cedric. “I rambled again, didn’t I?”

“You did, but it’s fine. How are you?”

“I am…,” Milton began and tilted his head a bit. “I am feeling better than before. The… the repair was quite…” He fiddled with the hem of his right sleeve. “… refreshing.”

“If it’s such an intricately made clock,” said Cedric, “it is even more impressive that you could fix it.”

Milton let his hands fall to his sides. “There was not much wrong with it. A few sprung-out gears, loose bolts… I suppose the owner does not maintain the clock enough. Fixing it was nothing.”

Cedric yawned. “Still, it was quite amazing. You must have practice in this.”

“As I said, I was a very bored child.”

“I was bored at times too,” Cedric replied with a shrug. “Still, I never went to try my hand on fixing clocks. You were even so focused and calm. I barely recognised you. You must be quite fascinated by clocks.”

Milton looked at him. Even if Cedric had been fully awake, he would not have been able to read them. “It is not the clocks. Not just them. Or just automata. I appreciate their composition, their machinery, but I would say I am fascinated more by the reason why they were invented.”

Cedric wanted to respond something, but then Anaïs walked to them and said, “Milton? If you can repair things, can you build some too? I am asking because, if you are feeling better after fixing the birdcage clock, I think you should continue spending your time doing something like that until the rain stops. Arnaud, Gérard, and I can help too if you want.”

Milton blinked at her and then smiled softly. “This is a good suggestion, Anaïs. How about we create a chain-reaction machine? Then, you can all help me with it. And, I suppose, it will be more fun and interesting for you than the repair of a clock. I have to bring Kristopher to his room first though.”

“Oh, no,” replied Cedric. “I still feel sleepy, but I also feel more secure on my feet than before. I can go to my room on my own. You only need to tell me how to get there.”

“Kristopher, are you sure? You…”

“I am. You are not in the best state yourself, and I think it would be better for you if you stayed in your own room instead of wandering through the château. If you get an attack again, it would be better it happened here instead of anywhere else.”

Milton wanted to fight against his words but restrained himself and only said, “Very well, Kristopher.” He was about to turn around and reach for his notebook when Arnaud came forward.

“If you do not mind, Duke Kristopher,” he said, “I would offer to bring you to your room. I do not feel comfortable letting you go on your own, and I know the château’s layout very well. I also fear that, if you are told the way to your chamber, you may forget your given instructions in your exhaustion and get lost.”

Cedric blinked at the little boy. It was a bit weird to get help from a nine-year-old, but did he really have another choice? It was either Arnaud or Anaïs after all who could guide him through the building. Perhaps even Gérard could, though that would stretch the absurdity too much. “That would be good. Thanks, Arnaud,” Cedric replied, and Arnaud bowed his head in response.

***

~Cloudia~

There is still so much left to do, Cloudia thought while she and Yvette walked through the shadowy village to the inn once again. She hoped that Maxime and Violaine had returned so that she had not taken the effort to go to the pension in this weather twice in vain. She hoped Lisa and Kamden would find something interesting while inspecting the corpses. She hoped that whatever she could learn from the Guilberts or the bodies would be enough to find out who the culprit was.

Still, there was so much left to do. For example, she had to speak to the victims’ friends.

This case. Part of me wanted to end it here and now. Run to the mayor and tell him that he was on his own, then turn the village upside down to find out anything about Townsend, find the Queen’s box, and return home after spending time with my relatives and a brief round of leisurely exploring France.

But this was not to be. I was too deep into this now, and another part of me did not want to abandon the villagers to their murderer. Especially considering that such a development might prove to be difficult to hide from Milton, even if he was leaving for Paris tomorrow. After all, he would return in a few days and might catch sight of the aftermath of the hypothetical chaos that could be unleashed in Nanteuil-la-Forêt.

Also, I did not want to give up now. Giving up was like losing, and I did not like to lose.

Cloudia straightened against the rain for the last few metres of their way, for the rest of their investigation.

A hot bath. A change of clothes. A meal.

The storm was making me impatient, tried to fray my thoughts. I needed to calm down, sit down, make myself comfortable and think everything through at the château. On my own or with Cedric if he could be bothered.

I could do it like this. I would be able to do it like this.

At the pension, Yvette knocked against the door, and they waited for a few moments until the door was thankfully opened by Maxime.

“Yvette, M Gauthier,” he said, his gaze darting between them. “What are you doing outside in this weather? Come in.” Maxime ushered them inside and closed the door.

“We would not have come here again if you had been here before,” Cloudia told him, pulling down her hood. It had been wonderful to have been able to dry herself at the church, but now she was as wet as before again.

Only a few more hours.

Maxime turned to her. “Hm?”

“We have been here before,” Cloudia informed him. “Hours ago. Where were you, M Guilbert, when it’s pouring outside and a murderer is going around? Even if they have only been acting at night so far, we can never know when our killer will change patterns.” Again, she added in her head.

“Maybe we should sit down and talk?” suggested Maxime. He walked ahead to the inn’s community room, and Yvette and Cloudia followed him. There, they were greeted by a woman who smiled awkwardly at them and shifted nervously on the sofa.

“Violaine,” said Maxime. “That’s M Gauthier, one of the men I’ve told you about.”

His wife nodded at his words, and Cloudia smiled at her. “Good afternoon, Mme Guilbert. I am glad that you are here too, and I want to apologise in advance for potentially ruining your furniture.” She spread her arms, water dripping from them as if she was a fountain. “The weather has not been particularly kind lately.”

“Yes, it hasn’t, but don’t worry about the furniture, M Gauthier,” Violaine replied. “Please just sit.”

Cloudia sat down on an armchair. “I shouldn’t worry? I thought you would be very upset. Not only as the wife of this tavern’s owner but also as its housekeeper who meticulously makes sure that all the rooms look immaculate.”

“Well,” Violaine said and touched a lock of her brown hair that had sprung free of her up-do. “The state of the furniture is only a subsidiary matter in our current situation, isn’t it?”

Cloudia smiled. “Yes, of course, it is. Mme Guilbert, I’ve already told your husband about this, but Mlle Guilloux and I were here earlier today alongside two of my colleagues who are currently investigating elsewhere. We knocked and knocked and waited a considerable period, but you were not present. Considering that the village is in a state of emergency with a murderer going around and Mother Nature herself trying to destroy this place with this heavy rain, could you tell me where you and your husband were, Mme Guilbert?”

“Where we were earlier?” Violaine repeated and then clutched and unclutched her hands.

“My apologies, M Gauthier,” Maxime interjected, “but my wife may not be suitable to answer any questions right now. She is easily unnerved and, as you said, a killer is going around.”

“Chamomile tea,” Cloudia said, and Maxime blinked at her, perplexed. “If you have correctly guessed that your wife is anxious right now, M Guilbert,” she explained, “why not bring her a cup of chamomile tea or do something else to ease her nerves? After all, you guided us here, fully knowing that she would be here and the reason I am here – fully knowing that your wife is nervous and uneasy. Why not help her a bit? Chamomile has relaxing properties, and so has peppermint if you have no chamomile tea at hand.” She smiled at him, and, for a fraction of a second, Maxime narrowed his eyes at her before he wordlessly left for the kitchen.

“How kind of him,” Cloudia said hollowly. “I wonder if he knows how to use a kettle.” She looked at Violaine. “At any rate, Mme Guilbert, I do not want to unnecessarily distress you or anyone, so I’ll ask you: Are you comfortable with answering some of my questions? Please be honest.”

Violaine tensed immediately and looked from Cloudia to Yvette and back, glanced briefly to the door through which her husband had left. “I…,” she began, “I think I can answer some questions.”

Cloudia smiled at her and wrapped her arms around herself. She was cold from the rain, so she was not certain if it was true or not, but the room itself seemed unusually cold too. “Thanks. Let us wait a moment until M Guilbert returns with the tea. I also want to address that it is very considerate of you to agree to help. We need as many to help out, need to find out as much as possible to bring this to an end. Cooperation is key, especially when it is about a murderer roaming around. They have been predominately targeting young people too – and if I remember correctly, you have a daughter around the age of the latest victims. What was her name? Marie-Claire? How is she?”

Violaine’s eyes widened. “Marie-Claire? Oh, she… she is doing well.”

“That is good to hear. I assume she is at home? You don’t live at the inn as well, right?”

“Oh, she…” Violaine trailed off and curled her loose lock of hair around her finger.

“They do not live here,” Yvette came to her rescue. “They live down the street in a little house and come every morning to the inn for work. Marie-Claire is someone who prefers to spend her time inside; you have to practically drag her outside.” She chuckled.

“I see,” said Cloudia. “How far is the kitchen from here?”

“It is down the corridor, why?” Yvette replied.

She raised her shoulders a bit. “I wondered when M Guilbert will join us again. While he is still absent, Mme Guilbert, may you tell me where you were earlier today? Were you with your daughter?”

“Yes,” Violaine answered. “Maxime and I were with her all day.”

Cloudia smiled. “I see. Spending time together with your family is good. As you have said that you were with her ‘all day,’ can I assume that you currently have no guests at the inn?”

Hesitatingly, Violaine shook her head. “No, we do not. We… we rarely get any guests at all. The stranger was the first in a while.”

“Must be terrible business,” Cloudia remarked, “having a pension in a place such as Nanteuil-la-Forêt. When it is not pouring, the village is beautiful enough, but it is certainly not in the best of locations.”

“We are working on advertising Nanteuil-la-Forêt,” Yvette said. “My father and M Descombes want to give Nanteuil-la-Forêt more presence and prominence as they want to share our cosy place with others. Soon, the inn will flourish because many will come here.”

“How very nice,” Cloudia replied. She pricked up her ears, but she could still not hear it. How curious. “Then, Vidocq and I should hurry to wrap up this case so that the inn’s flourishing will indeed happen ‘soon,’” she proceeded. “Though I suppose that a place that has once harboured a vicious murderer may become an attraction even without a pretty village around it.” She smiled at Yvette, and Yvette replied with a crooked, uneasy smile.

“Now, Mme Guilbert,” Cloudia began, “did you know any of the victims better? Mme Allemand, Dominique Duhamel, Gustave and Marius Beaubois?”

“I…” Violaine’s grip on her lock tightened. Cloudia almost feared that she would rip it out. “I knew Dominique, Gustave, and Marius. Marie-Claire went to school with them, but they were not very close.”

“I see. And the boys amongst one another? Were they close?”

“No,” said Violaine before she backtracked. “Yes. You must know how boys are at that age: often quarrelling and arguing, but still being close. It is a little hard to tell whether they are friends or not because of that. However, they were friendly.”

“Thank you for the information,” Cloudia said at the same time as Maxime returned with a cup of tea which he handed to his wife with a slightly breathless “Here, my dear.” Cloudia glanced at the floor and then smiled at Maxime. “Welcome back, M Guilbert. You have left us waiting for quite some time.”

***

~Cedric~

A few corridors into their little journey to his room, Cedric realised that Arnaud was not very talkative. He had associated noise with the boy; now, he understood that it was only attached to him in the form of Anaïs who would always talk and laugh. Cedric would not have minded this aspect on any other day, but right now, he needed anything to help him stay awake or he feared he would fall asleep here and now.

“Arnaud,” Cedric began. “What do you think about Anaïs calling Milton a faerie? I know Jacques does not like it, and I’m curious what you think of it. I think of it as childishly charming.”

“That is how Anaïs is,” Arnaud said. “She is very fond of associating people with something – as you have found out at her picnic.”

“Yes, she is,” Cedric replied. “Only she is especially insistent about the whole faerie affair.”

“Anaïs is also very fond of faeries. She loves reading about them and telling everyone about them. As Papa is an expert when it comes to birds, Anaïs loves to talk to him about faeries as they are, like birds, flying entities. They also sometimes explore forests.”

“In search of faeries?”

Arnaud nodded. “Anaïs, at least. Papa ‘helps.’”

“I see,” Cedric said and yawned. With difficulty, he dragged himself to his room with Arnaud’s guidance. At his blessed bedroom door, Cedric said goodbye to Arnaud and then walked straight to his bed.

A quick nap before Cloudia returned. I wanted to reach at least some level of rest until she came back so that we could talk. I also wanted to catch some sleep before dinner or I feared I might miss it like I had missed lunch.

With a tired half-smile on his face, Cedric took off his jacket and threw it on the closest chair, freed his hair from the band, and kicked off his shoes on the way to the bed. He was about to jump into it when he heard someone say, “How unsightly, Not-Kristopher.”

Cedric flinched and every fibre of his body sighed.

Could one not find rest in this damn château?

He rubbed his eyes. “Dammit, Cecelia, what are you doing here?”

Cecelia leaned back on the armchair she had made herself at home on. “Waiting for you, obviously.”

“But couldn’t you have waited a bit longer?”

“Don’t worry, Not-Kristopher. The servants have informed me about your sleepiness. Thus, I have brought you a gift.” She gestured to the little table in front of her which bore a tea service.

Cedric laughed hoarsely. “I’m not drinking anything you offer ever again,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “A butler brewed the coffee. It’s to help you stay awake.”

He scrutinised the pot. “I don’t believe you. Now, leave.”

“You are being dramatic.”

“So would you be if you had been nearly killed by some unknown substance. Now, go.”

“Not-Kristopher, sit down.”

“I will laydown and you can go.”

Cecelia sighed and then poured herself a cup of coffee and took a sip without taking her eyes off Cedric. “See? I’m perfectly fine,” she said when she sat the cup down again. “There is only one pot. You will drink from it too. Its contents are fine. Now, stop being difficult and drink your coffee and sit down.”

Cedric ran a hand over his face, defeated, and then poured himself a cup and sat with it down on his bed. He sank into the soft blanket, and his heart tightened with longing to simply curl himself up in it and drift into dreams. Instead, he glared at Cecelia and took a deep gulp.

And started coughing.

“What isthat?” Cedric said, grimacing at the evil dark tincture in his cup.

“Coffee.”

“I hadcoffee. That’s not coffee. What’s this?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes. “It is coffee, Not-Kristopher. There are different kinds of tea. Did you think there wouldn’t be different kinds of coffee too?”

He scowled at his cup. “It’s vile and bitter. The coffee I had was a little bitter too, but not like this. I thought drinks have to be drinkable.”

“The French like their coffee harsh and bitter,” she said with an elegant shrug. “And you cannot deny it did not wake you up thoroughly.”

Cedric opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it again. She was right. Even if the coffee itself might not have kicked in yet, its taste had certainly shaken off part of his sleepiness. He put his cup on the little table. “I don’t like anything that tastes bitter.”

“I realised.”

“That includes you.”

Cecelia laughed. “Oh, don’t make me repeat that to Cloudia.”

Cedric glared at her, and she smiled at him. “Now,” she said, “tell me: How was your day with Milton?”

***

~Cloudia~

Cloudia and Yvette said their goodbyes to Maxime and Violaine and headed back out into the rain and to the hospital. It had been an interesting conversation, and Cloudia could not wait to go over and discuss it with Cedric.

And write down everything in a fresh, new notebook. After Maxime’s arrival, I had taken out my notebook and learned that it had not survived the rain although I had safely put it in my pocket.

A new notebook, a night to myself. Normally, my memory was good enough that I did not really need to write everything down, but I liked to have everything structured and laid out in front of me. Also, good memory or not, one could not recall all at once, and writing everything down helped to draw everything out of one’s mind.

Considering the amount of input I had received in the last few days, it might be quite beneficial to write it all down.

And considering that I felt a little frayed – the dread of one of those episodes was always at the back of my mind – writing down everything when I still remembered it all would be for the best.

Yvette informed Cloudia that it was a relatively long way from the guesthouse to the hospital. Hearing of a distance was wildly different from experiencing it though. A “short ten-minute walk” could feel like an eternity when it went up a hill, the path was uneven, or the sky had spontaneously decided to empty its water storage for several weeks in a single day. If it was not a ten-minute walk, but a thirty-five-minute one with similarly awful conditions, one could not help but wonder which deity they had upset to have to suffer like that.

Just the hospital left. It was just the hospital left, I told myself all the way to it.

When Cloudia and Yvette finally arrived at the hospital, a nurse led them to a waiting room after greetings and introductions. There, Vivienne, the nurse, told them to sit down and wait while she would go to get the head doctor. Cloudia thanked her and sat down.

I was athletic. I trained whenever I could, but today’s ordeal was unnecessarily exhausting.

But it was just the corpses left now. At least for today, only the corpses were left. Then, it was time to–

Cloudia sat up straighter when another nurse hurried into the room, an angry man following her and demanding to speak to Laurent Michaux, the head doctor. The nurse began to say “I am sorry, but I cannot help you. I have already said that he has…” when Cloudia stood up and went to take hold of the man’s arm before he could grab the nurse’s.

“I am sorry for interfering,” Cloudia said to the man. He had looked stunned the moment she had taken his hand, but his surprise was slowly eaten away by his anger yet again. The nurse took a few steps back. “However, it seems that this situation is getting out of hand. Monsieur, may I ask you what you are doing? Yelling in a hospital and running after this nurse?”

The man narrowed his eyes at her. “And you are?” he said. He tried to get out of her grip, but Cloudia held on tight. He was considerably taller than her and seemed strongly built, so it was quite a strain to keep her grip on him, but she wouldn’t let go just yet. “Wait. I’ve never seen you before: You are one of those people from Paris, aren’t you?” the man continued and his tone became even angrier.

“Exactly. I am Jean Gauthier, Détective Alexandre Vidocq’s assistant,” Cloudia replied, holding her gaze steady when she looked at him. “And who are you?”

“Fernand!” exclaimed Yvette and walked to them with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Yvette, what are you doing here?” the man asked.

“I am guiding M Gauthier through the village.” She turned to Cloudia. “My apologies. This is Fernand Beaubois, the father of Gustave and Marius. Could you perhaps let go of him?”

“Of course, I can,” Cloudia replied and glared at Fernand. “He has to promise not to do anything though.”

Fernand glared back at her. “Fine,” he growled. “I promise.”

Smiling at him, Cloudia let go. “Much obliged,” she said and then looked at the nurse who was standing frozen a few steps away from her. “Are you all right?”

The nurse nodded.

“Would you like to sit still? You look a little pale.”

“No, it’s fine. I need to be elsewhere now anyway.”

“I see. What is your name?”

The nurse blinked at her. “Uhm, Corrine.”

“Corrine, do you have a few minutes to spare or are you in a hurry? I want to ask you something, but it is fine if you have no time.”

“One question will be all right.”

Cloudia smiled at her. “Thanks, Corrine. Could you please tell me why M Beaubois has been running after you?”

Corrine glanced briefly at Fernand. “M Beaubois wants to speak to M Michaux about his sons. I was strictly instructed to send him and anyone else away as M Michaux does not want anyone to tamper with the bodies. It was decided that nobody could access or retrieve the bodies until the murderer is apprehended. I don’t have the power to undo that decision, and the doctor is busy right now. I have told M Beaubois this, but he does not want to hear and keeps enquiring.”

“‘Tampering’?” Fernand’s face turned red. “I only want to see my sons. I cannot understand why I’m forbidden from seeing them.”

“M Beaubois, as I said, I am sorry, but M Michaux has prohibited it specifically,” said Corinne with a halting voice. “No one is to see the bodies except for the doctor himself and the investigators until the murderer is caught.”

How interesting.

Cloudia smiled. She had been smiling so much all day; she hoped her face would not hurt tomorrow. “Thank you, Corinne. I will handle this from here on. We have impeded you enough.”

It seemed as if Corinne wanted to protest but then decided against it. She just bowed and said her thanks before she left the room. As soon as she was gone, Cloudia turned to Fernand who still looked highly displeased. “M Beaubois, I am sorry. It must be terrible for you not to be able to see your sons now. However, I cannot condone that you are directing your anger towards innocent people. I hope today will be an isolated case,” Cloudia said firmly. “At any rate, I am here because I sent two of my colleagues to the hospital earlier to inspect the bodies. Of course, this will not be the same, but I will promise to tell you about the conditions of your sons’ bodies – and make sure that the investigation will be wrapped up as soon as possible so that you can see them yourself before the funeral.”

Fernand continued to glare at her, and Cloudia fought back the urge to sigh and tell him that, if he neither wanted help nor reassurance, he could leave and stop wasting anyone’s time and pestering people. She was not patient enough for such things. Still, she forced herself to soften her voice and repeated, “I promise to ensure that Détective Vidocq will quickly wrap up the case. Also,” Cloudia sternly looked at him, “I was at your house earlier, M Beaubois, and met your wife and son. I know that you are hurting because of your loss. I promise to take care of the dead; I urge you to take care of the living.”

Fernand held her gaze for a while before his shoulders sacked. There was still fight left in him, but it had mostly cooled now. “You better catch the killer soon,” he said and then turned and left.

“M Gauthier, Yvette?” said Vivienne when she returned a few minutes later. “I will now lead you to the deadhouse – the doctor has said that he will meet you there.”

***

~Cedric~

“How should it have been? It was a normal day. We played some chess. Ate some sandwiches. That’s it,” Cedric said dryly, and Cecelia raised an eyebrow.

“Not-Kristopher, do you need more coffee? Because your mind still seems to be fogged from sleepiness – or are you deliberately answering my question in such an obviously avoidant way?”

“I have told you all we did today,” he replied. “Did you really expect thorough replies when you broke into my room and are now preventing me from sleeping?”

Cecelia chuckled. “You sure are prickly today, Not-Kristopher,” she said and broke into an impish grin. “Of course, I expected thorough replies because you know exactly that they are the only way to ever get me to leave. I also did not break into your room. A break-in is a forced entry, but your door was never locked and I, thankfully, did not have to resort to using force.” Cecelia took a sip of her coffee. “Please indulge me, Not-Kristopher, what did you and our dear Baron Salisbury do today?”

Cedric sighed. “We played chess and ate lunch I prepared because we missed the actual lunch.”

“I wondered where you two were.”

“You had lunch with the others? I thought you preferred to eat alone in your room.”

“And I do, but every once in a while, you should be polite and eat alongside your gracious hosts. Anyway, it must have been a veryengaging game for you to get so caught up.” Cecelia smiled. “Did you have any engaging conversations as well?”

“If you want to know if we talked – of course, we did. And I did learn a few more things about Milton. I just don’t think they will interest you much. It was nothing particularly substantial. However, what I can say after spending time with Milton today is that I doubt that he could be capable of something like arms smuggling. He’s overflowing with anxiety and can barely hold himself together. If he truly were a weapons smuggler, he would have surrendered himself to the authorities a long time ago.”

“Still, there is the rumour,” Cecelia replied.

“Yes. While I think that Milton is not involved in any smuggling himself, I do believe someone is using his company under his nose to engage in illicit activity.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Who do you believe to be the actual weapons smuggler, Not-Kristopher?”

“Wentworth,” Cedric said, and while he felt confident when he said it aloud, his confidence vanished when Cecelia started to laugh.

“Enough of the joking. Tell me, who do you believe to be the actual weapons smuggler if not Milton?”

“It… it was not a joke,” he replied, now feeling quite silly and foolish. No, I don’t have to be, he thought right afterwards. It makes sense that Wentworth is the culprit. I cannot allow Cecelia to talk me out of it; I only have to explain my logic to her.

“Wentworth? Don’t be absurd. It’s not him.”

“Are you saying this because you did not consider this possibility yourself? You only gave me notes on Milton; you only focus on Milton. Everyone does. Who would ever focus on the butler? That’s how Wentworth could do it – even if it was at the expense of Milton who is supposed to be his beloved protégé. You made no effort to look into Wentworth or consider him as a legitimate suspect, Cecelia, and now you–”

Cecelia glared at Cedric, effectively cutting him off. “Making false claims on my persona? On my abilities? Of course, I researched Abraham Wentworth, Not-Kristopher, who do you believe me to be? Only because I did not tell you about my findings regarding this part of my research does not mean I did not do it.”

“You did?” said Cedric, slightly taken aback. “Then why didn’t you inform me about this?”

“I did not inform you as I did not think it would be necessary, Not-Kristopher. We are, after all, focusing on Baron Salisbury, not on his butler. That’s what I’ve told you. I wanted you to focus on what is of importance. If I wanted you to keep an eye on Wentworth too, I would have given you two files, one for each.”

“But if you looked into Wentworth, you surely must have found anything that could explain everything – that incriminates him because I am sure his background is as sparsely documented as Milton’s and–”

“And why do you think that, Not-Kristopher?” Cecelia interrupted him.

“Because he has always been at Milton’s side, and Milton’s life is like ‘Swiss cheese’ as you said.”

“Of course, there’s a large gap between when Wentworth moved with Milton’s family to Milton’s mysterious birthplace until they went to London. Rather unfortunately for your speculative daydreams, the rest of Wentworth’s life is as well-documented as anyone else’s.”

Cedric blinked at her, and Cecelia sighed. “What do you want, you pathetic fool? Proof? A summary?” she said, and he slowly nodded.

“God, I cannot believe Cloudia has still not thrown you into a ditch,” she proceeded and poured herself a new cup of coffee.

“Abraham Wentworth was born in Cadgwith, Cornwall to Asher Wentworth, a fisher, and his wife Leah. They were not bathing in money, but they had enough to feed their family of six. Wentworth was the second oldest amongst four children; he had an older and a younger brother and a younger sister. His family was quite liked where they lived and their business provided food to the nearby gentry. This eventually allowed Wentworth to be schooled to be a butler in the household of Lord Helmer Carrington for whom he worked until he was hired by Milton’s grandmother in 1811.

“I hope you remember that Milton’s mother Kordelia was adopted after she had lost her entire family in a shipwreck of which she was the sole survivor? Her adopted mother was a certain Idella Scarborough who was quite the character.

“She had been adopted too, was a rich heiress, and quite the traveller and an acquaintance to many – amongst others, to Lord Carrington. When she took in Milton’s mother, Miss Scarborough – who was never married and, as I heard, very much refused to be wed – looked around for servants to hire. She did not have any herself as she thought they were only a hindrance in her nomadic lifestyle, but she changed her mind after becoming a mother as she certainly needed a bit of assistance to take care of her new daughter while scouring through Great Britain. At times, Miss Scarborough would even leave Kordelia and her little household in a rented house in Britain while she ventured to the continent. You can only wonder why she adopted Milton’s mother in the first place. After all, Miss Scarborough evidently had never planned to settle down and having a traumatised child and a few new servants did not quite agree to her chosen lifestyle… Surely, she needed an heir, but the timing seems to have been inconvenient… Anyway, enough of this; I am diverting.

“Miss Scarborough talked to Lord Carrington about searching for staff, and he warmly referred Wentworth to her. Wentworth was hired to take care of Kordelia Bloomfield – apparently, she took her adoptive mother’s surname for a while, but did not use it when she moved to London. Miss Scarborough also employed a maid and companion for Kordelia.

“The little household around Miss Scarborough – she, Kordelia, Wentworth, the maid, and a family friend – travelled through the kingdom until 1819. The longest they stayed at a place together was a month. When Miss Scarborough decided to cross the Channel, the others would stay at the same place for a considerably longer time. After eight years of constant travelling, Kordelia got tired of it and asked her mother if it was possible for her and the others to settle down somewhere while her mother would indulge in her travels on her own. Miss Scarborough accepted Kordelia’s request, and Kordelia went to live at her mysterious choice of settlement. There are reports that her mother visited her as often as she could – Kordelia was only fifteen at that time after all – but there is nothing on where Miss Scarborough went, where Kordelia chose to live. And this absolutely ridiculous circumstance leaves us with a gap of eighteen years.”

“A very large, very suspicious gap,” chimed in Cedric.

“Definitely, but not exactly something that would incriminate Wentworth now, eleven years after he re-emerged into common society with his household. There are no documents on Wentworth having been spotted anywhere else in those missing eighteen years, so I would presume he had simply been staying there, taking care of Kordelia Bloomfield’s household day in, day out. Still, this is obviously an eyebrow-raising topic and needs to be examined further. Unlike Milton, however, that’s the only gap in Wentworth’s timeline. After the death of his mistress, of Milton’s mother, in 1838 Wentworth was regularly seen running errands alone or accompanying Leland,” Cecelia said, counting the differences between Milton’s and Wentworth’s stories on her hand. “Milton was only seen twice in the same year. In 1841, Milton travelled overseas and did not take Wentworth or anyone else with him – he went alone. Again, Wentworth’s schedule is perfectly documented in contrast…”

“Wait – Milton went away alone?” Cedric cut her off, earning a glare from Cecelia. “He alwaystakes Wentworth with him, why not then?”

“That’s the mystery, Not-Kristopher, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “And how often do I have to tell you that you should not interrupt me!” She took a deep breath to calm herself down before she continued, “After Neal Salisbury’s death, Milton went missing from the public eye again; Wentworth was still seen in the city. When Milton engaged more in society, his butler was at his side, loyal and true as a shadow. When Milton was in Cardiff around the time of his uncle’s death, Wentworth was with him. He accompanied him to his travels afterwards – to Germany, to France, to Sweden… all the way to China and Korea and back. He was with him when Leland died. He was with him when he got involved with Cloudia. He was with him when he travelled again. He is with him now. Whenever Milton is in public or away, Wentworth is by his side; and when Milton is unseen, Wentworth is observed running errands for his young master. Wentworth’s file is airtight except for the eighteen-year gap. The rest of Milton’s gaps aren’t Wentworth’s too. He did not use them to his benefit to hide his criminal schemes if you believed that, Not-Kristopher.”

“But that does not mean he isn’t doing any criminal scheming; it only means that he didn’t hide it with that,” Cedric pointed out, and Cecelia rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee.

“You’re hopeless, Not-Kristopher, and I wish I brought something stronger to drink to get through this,” she said. “If you are so adamant about Abraham Wentworth being the true arms dealer, why don’t you explain his motives to me? After all, this business would harm the Salisbury Company – and it almost did. The Salisbury Company, the pride and joy of Milton’s family; his dear protégé’s company. Why should he purposefully try to exploit and hurt it? What is he gaining from it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t care for the Salisbury Company and Milton? Maybe he intends to ruin Milton and run off to have a better life elsewhere with all the money he accumulated on the side with his smuggling business?”

“You’re wrong: Wentworth does care for Lord Milton.”

“No, you are wrong. Milton flinched when Wentworth spoke to him in Dover. Wentworth left him alone when Milton was not feeling well. Does this sound like he cares to you? And since when are you a sentimental person?”

Cecelia put down her cup. “I am not sure if you know that, Not-Kristopher, but Milton needs his butler to function. In the time he was involved with Cloudia, she and I came to understand that Wentworth is his safety net. He is independent in any other manner, but emotionally he isn’t. This isn’t surprising considering that Wentworth is the only constant he has ever had. Everyone else either died over the years – his parents, his sister, his uncle, his cousin – or left; his mother’s lady companion and the family friend left his household in 1841.”

“This only proves how much Milton needs him. How much he loves Wentworth, not the other way around.”

“Cloudia grew fairly close to Lord Milton in the months they spent together,” said Cecelia, ignoring his interjection, and Cedric flinched a bit. He hoped that Cecelia hadn’t seen it, but she tilted her head and smiled. “She hasn’t told you yet, has she? I suppose she will soon, so be patient. And don’t contemplate to ask me. I have neither the time nor desire to inform you about those months. Also, Cloudia would be very mad at me if I did tell you, and I am already walking on thin ice with her considering that I researched Baron Salisbury and his butler.”

Cecelia leaned back. “At any rate, Cloudia grew quite close to Milton – not that she would ever admit this; their relationship has always been a little odd and complicated. And at some point, Milton told her that when he let go of his mother’s lady’s companion and his family friend left his household, he also talked to Wentworth about his retirement. Apparently, Wentworth was quite insistent that he would not retire anytime soon despite his advanced age.”

“Of course, he does not want to retire,” Cedric replied. “If he did, he would lose access to the Salisbury Company, and his illicit business would be harder to undertake.”

“Once you got your teeth into something, you really won’t let go of it, will you?” Cecelia sighed. “Cloudia did not go into detail as she may not know the full extent of Wentworth and Milton’s relationship, but from what I’ve heard, Wentworth very much cares for the Baron.”

“Milton said that while he views Wentworth as his family, Wentworth does not return this sentiment.”

“He’s a butler, is he not? I suppose he would want to keep a certain distance between himself and his master because his occupation requires him to do so. Just because he says that he does not think of Milton as family does not mean that this is the case. What you say is not necessarily the same as what you do and actually think and believe. Cloudia certainly believes that Wentworth cares a lot for Lord Milton.”

“And what about Dover? What about Wentworth’s neglect of Milton today?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes and poured herself another cup of coffee. “We are talking about Cloudia who has observed them for months and a few isolated cases that happened in the span of a few days. What may give us the best data to work with? You also care for Cloudia, don’t you? Do youget along with her all the time? Lord Milton and his butler are still human. Maybe saccharine Milton would never be upset with Wentworth, but Wentworth may have the capacity to be ‘harsh’ to a certain extend – and they have known each other since Milton’s birth. There isa certain familiarity and closeness between them; that cannot be denied. Also, have you asked why Wentworth was not with Milton today?”

“Wentworth wanted to spend time with Alfred and…” Cedric began before he stopped himself when the memory flowed back.

“Bram didn’t just leave me alone. I… I had to convince Bram for quite a while that I would be fine on my own. I didn’t mean to ruin Mr Newman’s day. I can look after myself after all.”

“Milton sent Wentworth away to be with Alfred because he knows they get along well and he did not want to hinder them from spending time together,” Cedric said ultimately.

“See? Milton ordered Wentworth to leave him alone – and a butler can only fight that much against his master’s wishes,” Cecelia said. “And in Dover… did the Baron flinch because his butler spoke to him or because someone said anything to him at all?”

Cedric blinked at her. “What?”

“In what state was Milton back then? Did he flinch because of Wentworth’s words or because of something else?”

“He flinched when Wentworth called him.”

“And?”

“Wentworth said Milton’s name when… when Milton was staring at Alfred,” Cedric replied haltingly, slowly drawing out each word as it dawned on him.

I had often seen Milton flinch like that. Every time he was deep in thought or very focused on something, and someone – anyone – interrupted him, he would flinch.

I had been the cause of this plenty of times.

Cecelia looked at her fingernails as she spoke. “Have you understood? Milton flinched not because Wentworth was the one who spoke and addressed him but because someone pulled him out of his thoughts.” She looked up. “And now, please answer this question for me:

“What is with you and your insistence to prove Milton’s innocence in this still very hypothetical matter that he may be an arms smuggler? Have you become so smitten with him in this short time? Or are you simply trying to convince everyone and yourself that you don’t hate and aren’t jealous of Milton for the petty fact that he was ‘there first,’ whatever this entails?”

“I am not jealous of Milton. I don’t hate him either.”

“Do you like him then?”

Cedric was silent, and Cecelia laughed. “Not-Kristopher, how idiotically amusing you are. What does it do for you to lie to yourself? No wonder why your hair is all grey. I never lie to myself as I believe it to be a matter too pointlessly exhausting. And look at me: As youthful as ever.” She leaned back. “So?”

“I barely know Milton,” Cedric said matter-of-factly. “I neither hate him nor am I particularly fond of him.”

“And still?”

“And still… There’s no ‘and still,’ Cecelia.”

“And still you were almost about to tell.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“No, you are being ridiculous,” replied Cecelia, raising her voice ever-so-slightly. “From all I know and from all I have heard, I believe that there must have been at least one instance today when you thought that there is something off about Milton. Am I right?”

Cedric stiffened a bit. Agitated by his stubbornness, Cecelia did not seem to notice as she energetically carried on. “I know you’re a fraud,” she said, “but I assume you have not lived under a rock until last year, have you? So, is there not something about Milton that strikes you as fundamentally odd?”

Cedric blinked at her. “I haven’t lived under a rock, but what do you mean? ‘Fundamentally odd’?”

She sighed. “A young man, well-bred, titled, extremely wealthy, and if I dare admit, rather easy on the eyes – do you understand it now?” Cecelia asked and when Cedric stared blankly at her, she sighed anew. “In his social class, people his age with such good attributes usually cannot save themselves from possible suitors – or are already married. I would even dare to say that if you ever glimpsed at Milton Salisbury’s bank statement, you would drop those trousers faster than humanly possible. Still, Milton is a bachelor, and there are only very few who even consider trying to win him over. In part, this has something to do with his constant travels, but then, don’t you think he should have still found someone by now? Maybe even in a different country? I believe Milton is like Blanche Ingram.”

“Blanche Ingram?” asked Cedric, and Cecelia rolled her eyes in frustration. “You cannot tell me I am the only one Cloudia is telling detailed plot summaries of novels to. I refuse to believe this.”

“Well, sometimes my brain automatically turns itself off while she rambles. I try to listen, but it’s an old habit and I haven’t managed to outgrow it yet…”

“What a wonderful suitor you are, Not-Kristopher. Cloudia should consider herself fortunate,” Cecelia deadpanned. “Anyway, what I want to say is that Blanche Ingram from Jane Eyre is beautiful, quite talented, and comes from a good family. All this should make her very desirable to everyone. However, like Milton, she is in her mid-twenties and still unmarried. For a woman, this is even more eyebrow-raising than for a man as women of the gentry usually marry in their early twenties or, in some cases, their late teens which means that she has surpassed the ‘usual’ age of marriage by a few years. The question is: Why does nobody want to marry Blanche Ingram despite her apparently good qualities? Because she’s a haughty person: beautiful on the outside, rotten on the inside with skin quivering in rot and on the edge of breaking up and falling apart. The kind of apple you would not even throw to the pigs. Beyond disgusting.”

“And you think Milton is like that… an apple rotten on the inside?”

“Maybe not as dramatically as Blanche, but I suppose there’s still rot inside him too. What kind of rot do you think it is? Blanche’s rot is her arrogance, her haughtiness, her ill-treatment of those below her in social status. I am aware Blanche does not know that Mr Rochester is in love with Jane Eyre by the time he faux-courts her. Still, imagine ‘indirectly’ insulting the governess of the ward of the man you are pursuing and that right in front of him? Reminiscing with your family how you maltreated your own governesses?” Cecelia shook her head. “Now, I am sounding like Cloudia, going on and on about books and fictional characters. What I am intending to say, and I am putting this as plainly and clearly as I can so that evenyou will understand it: There must be something about Milton Salisbury that is driving people away which is especially interesting as, from my observation, people are often strangely drawn to him as well. This is, of course, not always the case as can be seen from me and Cloudia’s maid Lisa Greene.”

Cedric yawned. He knew he should take another sip of the coffee, but every fibre of his being protested against it. “You are not particularly companionable people though.”

Cecelia raised an eyebrow. “Would you describe Cloudiaas a ‘particularly companionable person’?”

“No, but she’s not as openly hostile towards people as you and Miss Greene are. Or, well, in your case your hostility is packed up twenty times and wrapped to seem to be a gift.”

She smiled. “How nicely put, Not-Kristopher. Maybe your true calling is to be a writer of fiction. I believe Cloudia would very much welcome the career change.”

Cedric scowled at her, and Cecelia continued, “Maybe what draws others to him also keeps others away. However, I don’t think this characteristic of his is the one we are looking for. After all, this particular adverse effect does not seem to occur very frequently and, if it does, is more ‘severe’ if I can put it this way. Whatever drives others away from him must be something else. It may be more like a ‘feeling’ someone has in regards to Lord Milton rather than anything he does and says considering his personality.”

“Like some kind of ‘sinister gut feeling’ whenever he is around?” suggested Cedric.

Cecelia smiled. “Exactly. Have you felt something like that, Not-Kristopher?”

“I cannot say I have.”

She shrugged. “Very well.” Cecelia stood up, and relief made his heart jump.

I could sleep. I could have my peace. I could rest before Cloudia returned. I could rest to have the energy to talk to her for hours and hours, maybe even through the entire night. I-

“I will leave you now,” said Cecelia and those five words were an even more beautiful sound than the birdcage clock’s song to Cedric. She walked to the door, and he was ready to let himself drop onto his bed and promptly fall asleep as soon as the door fell into its lock behind her when she turned to him once more, a sly smile on her lips.

“This question has left me wondering for quite some time now, and I want to give it to you to ponder over as well,” Cecelia said.

“Have you never wondered why Lord Milton’s in love with our Cloudia?”

***

~Cloudia~

Hector hurried towards Cloudia, Yvette, and Vivienne as soon as he spotted them. “M Gauthier, Mlles Guilloux and Gaumont!” he greeted them with a wide smile. He was so happy and enthusiastic; one could almost forget that corpses were stored in the next room. Vivienne had told Cloudia that they did not have a separate deadhouse; they only refurbished a basement room to function as one some years back. They still called it a “deadhouse” though.

“I am glad you’ve finally arrived,” continued Hector.

“I am sorry to have left you and the others waiting for so long, Officier Monteil,” Cloudia returned. “Our conversation with M and Mme Guilbert took quite some time, and the way from there to here is long – and even longer in this horrible weather.”

Hector nodded a little excessively. “Indeed, indeed.”

A moment passed in which nobody said anything, though Hector kept smiling.

“Officier Monteil,” Cloudia asked slowly, “won’t you lead us into the deadhouse?”

“The deadhouse?” He looked to the door. “Oh. Oh, no. I cannot. I am prohibited from entering. I am standing here so that I am not a hindrance while they are working inside. M Fouille and Mlle Ledoux even told M Michaux to leave. However, he waits outside with me for a while, goes into the deadhouse to speak to your colleagues, M Gauthier, then comes back out, goes back in... I am not quite sure why. Every time, I try to stop him from entering, but he ignores me and goes inside anyway. M Michaux just entered the deadhouse again, so I would say that they will send him out any moment now. Mlle Ledoux in particular does not seem to enjoy being watched while she works.”

“That’s how she is,” Cloudia replied. “However, she does not mind when I see her work, so I would say that I can enter safely. If there is nothing else, I would like to go into the deadhouse to talk to my colleagues.” She stepped past Hector and barely touched the doorknob when he said, “The door is fairly heavy and a bit tricky to open. Not that I doubt that you can open it; it is just difficult and I want to warn you before you start to wonder. Perhaps, it would be better to wait until M Michaux is sent outside again…”

“Thank you, Officier Monteil, but I think I will be able to handle opening a door – no matter how heavy it is,” Cloudia said. She turned the knob and before she could push or pull the door – she assumed it was a “pull,” though could not be sure – the door opened and a man with greying hair came out… and flinched back when he noticed Cloudia.

“Not much was needed and then Mlle Ledoux could not oppose my presence in the deadhouse anymore,” Laurent Michaux said, glaring over his shoulder and into the room. Then, he cleared his throat and turned back to Cloudia and the others. “Vivienne, you are dismissed,” he said. “Please go and help out Corinne.”

Vivienne bowed her head and left without a word. Laurent cleared his throat again and held out his hand to Cloudia. “Laurent Michaux, pleased to meet you.”

Cloudia took his hand and shook it. “Jean Gauthier, likewise.” They let go of each other, and she proceeded to say, “I apologise if my colleagues have been troubling you too much.”

Laurent’s expression soured. “Not too much.” He narrowed his eyes and looked sideways to the deadhouse and closed the door to it.

Oh dear.

“M Michaux, may I briefly ask you a few questions?” Cloudia said.

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” she said and then proceeded to ask him about his relationship to the victims, to Nadia, Dominique, Gustave, and Marius. Laurent told her that he knew Nadia better than the others, but still barely knew her at all. He spent most of his time in the hospital or at home, wanting to spend the time he was not working away from people. As Laurent was one of the three physicians in the village, he was always pestered by everyone and, over the years, he had developed quite a distaste towards people. It did not affect his work; it only made him not spend any time with his fellow Nanteuillats. His house was even a bit farther away from the rest of the buildings to guarantee that he saw as few people as possible when he was home. Thus, Laurent had not been anywhere close to the crime scenes when the murders happened, though this circumstance did not provide him with an alibi that could protect him.

“I have one more question,” Cloudia said. “M Michaux, have you examined the corpses yourself? I know Grégoire and Maryse are currently examining them, but I want to know what you’ve learned before I talk to them about their findings.”

“I don’t have anything to say to that,” Laurent replied, and Cloudia looked at him in bewilderment. “I am not being uncooperative, M Gauthier. I did not examine the corpses myself at all.”

“Pardon?”

“Ever since I started working here as a doctor, I was never confronted with a murder case,” he explained. “Neither were the other two doctors. I asked them both, and both told me ‘Laurent, I am sorry, but I have no idea how to handle this.’ I stored the corpses and made sure they stayed in good condition which is not easy. Now, I am telling you what I have been told: M Gauthier, I have no idea how to handle this. Preserving the bodies was all I could do – Mlle Guilloux said I should keep them safe; it may be important for the investigation, she said. So I did. I cannot do anything else. Therefore, I cannot tell you about anything concerning the bodies, M Gauthier. I swear I did not tamper with the corpses in any way though.”

Cloudia nodded. “I see. Thank you for your efforts, M Michaux. They are much appreciated. Now, pardon me as I have just remembered that I wanted to ask you yet another question: I can see that the door is rather thick. Are the walls of the entire deadhouse built as thickly?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, they are. To contain any putrid smells. People also wanted to keep as much distance from the dead as possible. No one lying in a hospital wants to be constantly reminded that they may potentially die and end up in the deadhouse.”

“I see. I assume this also means that nobody can hear you gag or something like that?”

“Indeed. Nothing can penetrate these walls: no smells, no sound. That’s why always at least two people have to be here in case of an emergency. One has to remain close to the exit to get out quickly and call for help. It is quite tedious, and we are working to install some sort of bell system.”

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted to know. I know that you dislike it when you are told to leave your own workplace but may you please leave me and my colleagues alone? We have to discuss some matters of utmost importance and confidentiality,” said Cloudia.

“Of course,” Laurent begrudgingly replied. “I will wait for you upstairs if you need me.”

“Thanks. We will not take long.”

The doctor bowed his head to her. As soon as he was walking upstairs, Cloudia turned to Yvette and Hector. “This, of course, also applies to you. I am sorry, but you cannot go inside with me.”

They nodded, and Cloudia gave them an appreciative smile before she entered the deadhouse – a cold, grey, windowless room which was well-lit by multiple lamps – and closed the door behind her. Hector had not exaggerated: The door wasextraordinarily heavy.

“We can talk,” Cloudia said in English. “The walls are thick enough that nobody will hear us.”

“Oh, finally,” Lisa exclaimed. “I was going mad being moved around like a brainless game piece, not knowing what anyone is talking about, and not being able to say a single word. And then we were always with this girl – Yvette.” She grimaced. “I have no idea what she said all day, but she sounds insufferable.”

“Maybe when we are back in England or have some time left here after everything is wrapped up, you should learn French,” suggested Cloudia.

Lisa huffed. “Of what use is it to me then? The mission will be over; it’s unlikely that we’ll return to France. And it’s not like I am one of those fine ladies who may need to know French to find a husband, accumulating and listing ‘good traits and skills’ as if they are applying to a job, or to be able to continue gossiping even in the presence of lowly maids.”

“Oh, dear,” said Cloudia. “Kam, would you agree with me that Lisa’s grouchier than usual today?”

“I am not grouchier than usual.” Lisa turned to Kamden. “Mr Kamden, if you take her side, I’ll shave your head and make a broom out of your hair.”

Kamden looked between them. “I… I will not comment on the level of Miss Lisa’s grouchiness. However… learning French may be useful for you, Miss Lisa. You can never know enough. Mr Newman could help you practice.”

“You could listen in on the secret gossip of the young ladies you think are irritating,” Cloudia pointed out. “Imagine their faces if you reveal that you actually understood everything they said.”

Lisa crossed her arms in front of her. “Hm. This does sound intriguing. Let’s see.”

Cloudia clapped her hands together. “That’s good. Now, what did you find out?”

“Some things,” Lisa said. “Yvette is not the only nuisance. That man Lawrence…”

“Laurent.”

“…whatever his name is, is also tremendously annoying. Mr Kamden tells him to please go and wait outside, we want to do the examinations in private, and he keeps coming in! You have barely touched a corpse, he comes in, starts to chatter – don’t ask me what could be so urgent and important – and I stand here,” Lisa pointed next to a table with a body laid out on it, “or there,” she pointed to another table, “and can only think ‘If I could talk to him, I would cuss him straight to his own grave.’ Another reason why I should perhaps learn French. Mr Kamden has the most difficulty to get him out again – you know how soft he is – and I can only seethe and glare in silence. A pain. I don’t care what that doctor’s name is. He’s a pain. I’m calling him that – Pain.”

“‘Pain’ is bread in French,” Cloudia told her.

“That fits too. If we chop him up, we’ll likely find pieces of bread wedged between his cerebral lobes. Assembling the pieces might even give us a whole loaf.”

“A whole loaf?”

“A whole loaf! This village is infested with the most idiotic people.” Lisa gritted her teeth. “And then there’s this moronic police officer or whatever he is.”

“Hector Monteil.”

“He is so stupid, he’s wholly undeserving of any name. He got lost multiple times from the church to the hospital. We lost so much time because he has a worse sense of orientation than a headless chicken! And then when we finally arrived, he let Pain enter the deadhouse every two minutes! How can you be so spineless as a police officer? If someone says to maybe take care that someone does not enter a room – and Mr Kamden politely told him that after I could urge him to do so in the short window between us being all alone and Pain barging in again – you make sure that person does not enter the room!” Lisa pinched her nose. “If he was in charge of protecting someone, his protégé would die within minutes because he would let the killer into the room – maybe give them a little gift basket too.”

“Miss… Miss Liiisa,” Kamden said. “Do you want to sit down…?”

“Nice of you to ask, Mr Kamden, but I cannot simply sit down in Lady Cloudia’s presence.”

“You have my permission to sit,” Cloudia said.

“Well then,” Lisa replied and threw herself on the deadhouse’s singular chair.

Kamden took a deep breath. “Cloudie, what Miss Lisa was trying to say was that we did our best but were unable to do much due to outside factors.”

Lisa huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. “Don’t be so kind to those idiots, Mr Kamden. They hindered us at our work. It is a miracle that we managed to do a full external examination for all four bodies.”

Cloudia pressed her lips together. “That’s definitely not ideal.” She glanced at a clock and sighed. “And it’s too late to continue now.”

“It is not that late, Cloudie,” Kamden meant, but she shook her head. “No. Today is an awful day. You must be tired. I do not want to force you to do the internal examination now too. Also, if you do it while you are exhausted, you are more likely to make any mistakes which I’m sure you don’t want. This is not ideal at all and things can change overnight, but whether we like it or not you will have to continue tomorrow. The results of the external examination are better than nothing.” Cloudia leaned against the door. “Now, Kam, tell me, what did you find out? Then, we can finally head back and have dinner.”

Kamden grabbed his notes and walked to the table with Nadia’s body on it. “Nadia Allemand. 61 years old. Killed in the night from the 16th to the 17th of June. She was found by Mme Armelle Peletier in her tailor’s shop. As you can see, Cloudie, Mme Allemand wore only her nightgown when she was killed. Her bed was untouched, so it can be assumed that she was killed shortly after she changed clothes. Mme Allemand possibly heard noises downstairs and went to look for their source. I doubt the culprit changed her clothes; neither her wardrobe was in disarray nor could we find any marks that indicate this happened.” With his pencil, he pointed to the numerous pins that still protruded from Nadia’s corpse, though many had already been carefully removed and placed in bags. “Her nightgown exposes large parts of skin. Every exposed part has been meticulously punctured with pins. Miss Lisa found the same pins in a tea box at the tailor’s shop, meaning that the culprit knew Mme Allemand and used her own property against her. However, the pins were not the cause of her death.”

“It would be odd if they were,” Lisa continued. “They are quite thin and have not been stabbed very deeply into Mme Allemand’s skin. It’s a bit like acupuncture: There are so many pins in her skin and it makes for a horrifying image, but she did not die of that. I checked the needles and can say that they aren’t laced with poison.

“There’s nothing special about her nightgown; it’s some old rag-type thing, too often washed, too long in use. This is surprising considering that Mme Allemand used to be a seamstress. I guess, she was simply fond of it. Thomas is also weirdly attached to his especially stinky pieces of clothing that won’t ever lose their horse stench no matter how often I wash them.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, apart from the hundreds of little puncture holes, Mr Kamden and I found only one more outward blemish on her body.” Lisa touched the back of her head. “The backside of her head shows clear signs of blunt force trauma. Fractures in skulls aren’t as ‘flashy’ as hundreds of needles, I suppose, so it was overlooked. Mme Allemand was likely hit in the back with something and died. Then, the killer spent an ungodly amount of time putting metal-toothpicks into her skin for whatever reason. Maybe they wanted to distract from the head injury, no idea.”

Kamden moved to the next body and pointed with the pencil at it. “Dominique Duhamel. 19 years old. Killed in the night from the 17thto the 18th. He was found by the clergy when they went to the church to prepare for Sunday Mass. He was hanging from the church’s roof and a knife pierced his heart.” He pointed to the “empty” wound. “We removed and bagged the knife. The knife seems to be perfectly ordinary.”

“Imagine if the culprit had used a knife with their initials on it. We would only need everyone’s name and the case would be wrapped up in no time,” Lisa said. “We might have caught Townsend by now and be on our way home. Who knows?”

Cloudia sighed. “If only things were that easy,” she said and immediately remembered Cedric’s frequent suggestions to use “his method:” “Don’t be like that, Countess. You know that my method is much easier and faster. We can spend the time we save getting something to eat.” She knew that “his way” was indeed easier and faster; only, she did not want to become too reliant on such methods and use Cedric’s “short-cut.” As long as a case was not virtually unsolvable through regular means or she had not completely lost patience with an investigation, Cloudia had no desire to use it. While this investigation was wearing her nerves thin, it had not snapped them yet.

Maybe that would happen one day; maybe it would not. I hoped it would not. I very much wanted to avoid seeing Cedric’s triumphant face and hearing his snappish remark.

“Kam, please continue,” Cloudia said.

“Of course.” Kamden looked at Dominique’s body. “He was hanged on his neck, though he was not strangled to death. He was already dead by the time he was hanged. His neck didn’t break and uhm…” He looked at his notes. “M Duhamel was stabbed in his heart twice. The first stab killed him. Miss Lisa guesses that the murderer removed the knife when carrying his body to the roof as it may have been inconvenient to carry it with a knife protruding from it.”

“‘May’? Mr Kamden, I want to see you carrying a corpse with a knife lodged in its chest without any problems,” Lisa interjected.

“I wouldn’t be able to carry M Duhamel’s body though,” Kamden said. “Obviously, the culprit has to be strong as he was able to hang M Duhamel from the church’s roof. According to M l’Abbé, no contraption to get the body to the roof has been used after all. Also, Dominique Duhamel is quite muscular; it would not have been easy to carry him at all. We have no idea where he was actually killed before he was brought to the church.”

“Someone stabbed M Duhamel in the heart,” said Lisa. “Then, that someone brought him to the church, hanged him and stabbed him anew. It is curious that the culprit stabbed him again.”

“Indeed,” Cloudia replied. “I would say that it has some significance; maybe not the fact that he was stabbed twice, but that he was stabbed in the heart. It’s interesting that he was stabbed cleanly through the heart – and that the murderer made the effort to bring him to the church. Are there any other injuries? Any signs of a struggle?”

Kamden shook his head. “Nothing. I can’t say yet if he was drugged or not, but I would assume he was. It would be strange if he had stood still while someone stabbed him in the heart.” He moved to the next table. “Let’s continue with Gustave Beaubois. 18 years old. Killed in the night from the 18th to the 19th. He was found by Marc Cazal in the woods. He was lying on the ground, and, unlike M Duhamel, he was stabbed in the back. The kitchen knife that was used to kill him still protruded from his back. We bagged the knife too, and it is, again, a regular knife. M Gustave was lying on his stomach, but his head was turned to look up. His eyes were still open when he was found. Again, there were no signs of a fight. It is likely that he was also drugged before he was stabbed. His pockets have been emptied. Because he is the woodcutter’s son and helps his father a lot, I think, M Gustave is very fit and muscular.”

“If there had been a fight,” Lisa added, “he could have easily subdued his attacker. So, he musthave been drugged. However, there are no signs that Gustave Beaubois was carried to the woods. The culprit must have given him the drugs then and there, though why would he have taken something from someone he potentially did not know at all? It’s weird, but then the living residents of this place are all horribly dumb. I guess, he was as much of an idiot and took something a stranger gave him. In the forest, no less.”

“Or it was not a stranger,” suggested Cloudia. “The killer knew where Mme Allemand stored her pins. The killer could easily give Gustave something to drug him. If the stab to the heart and the church have some deeper personal significance, the killer may have known Dominique too. I do not want to completely disregard the ‘the murderer is the stranger’-hypothesis just now, but it seems more probable that the culprit is one of the villagers. Furthermore, the stranger was seen by multiple people – he does seem to exist. The question is: Where is he?”

Kamden nodded. “I would also say that one of the villagers is the true culprit.”

“And everyone is blaming the stranger because it’s always easier to blame the stranger,” said Lisa.

“Exactly.” Kamden walked to the fourth and final table. “Marius Beaubois. 17 years old. Killed in the night from the 19thto the 20th. He was found in the fountain on the village square by someone on their way to work. His entire body was submerged in the water. His skin is shrivelled because of this and his clothes are completely wet. It rained heavily that whole night, but he is not wearing a jacket or a cloak. There was also not an umbrella found at the crime scene. The rain made it impossible to check for any marks that indicate that he was carried to the fountain or that he fought against his assailant. Thus, unlike with the others, it is harder to discern whether M Marius knew his killer or not.

“M Marius did not drown. His head was smashed.” Kamden nonchalantly circled with his pencil over the damaged head. “He was both hit in the back and the front with possibly a hammer or something similar.”

“It looks like someone tried to pry open his scalp with a hammer and brute force,” commented Lisa. “As if the murderer saw Marius Beaubois and thought ‘oh, canned food.’ Only the culprit did not manage to open him up properly and then threw him in the fountain out of frustration.”

Kamden looked at her, horrified, and she shrugged. He blinked at her and then cleared his throat and looked through his notes. “I think that is all for now. We’ll have to look further into everything tomorrow.”

***

~Cedric~

“Have you never wondered why Lord Milton’s in love with our Cloudia?”

If I had not seen her eyes and knew better, I could make an excellent case detailing why Cecelia Williams was a demon – maybe even the devil. It would be a case so convincing that everyone would hunt her down, and I would finally be at peace.

Cedric rolled around on his bed, trying to shake away the question and rattle his restless mind into silence.

What had I even done to her? Nothing. Nothing at all. I was her “ally,” and she still did this to me. Heavens, how would Cecelia behave if I had done something to her? If I were her enemy?

If she ever found whoever killed her husband Michael, I would not want to know what she would do to that person.

Cedric turned and turned around. He rolled over his bed countless times, even changed his position from correctly to sideways to upside-down and all the way back. The bed must look like a warzone.

He kept his eyes firmly closed while he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position and shut out his thoughts. Unfortunately, Cedric was quite unsuccessful in either as Cecelia’s damn question had taken root in his mind: “Have you never wondered why Lord Milton’s in love with our Cloudia?”

He turned on his back and sighed. The question was haunting him, but he had refused to give it an answer.

Until now.

Lying in his bed for what must have been hours and being unable to find any sleep while a very persistent question asked by a demon lady knocked against the walls of his mind had drained the last bit of energy and strength Cedric had. His willpower had been filed off, and when the question knocked again, he answered in his mind: “How could he not.”

My sleepless, restless, haunted mind kept threading this string of thoughts into a cursed blanket that laid heavily over me.

I had no idea how they had met, how they had interacted and been at each other’s side, but if Milton had spent such a long time with Cloudia, he should have collected plenty of reasons to fall in love with her. How could he not have fallen in love with every bit of her being then?

The light in her eyes when she rambled about anything she was passionate about. The mischievous shine in her eyes when she had a witty remark on the top of her tongue. The triumphant smile whenever she solved a case. Her smiling face, her thinking face, her annoyed face when I teased and teased her…

Her sternness, her stubbornness, her eagerness to succeed and win. Her determination to take on all challenges. The calmness that appeared on her face whenever she was reading and which made her look so youthful – made her look as young as she actually was. Her softened expressions when she read a sad part, a lovely part, a funny part.

Her glares and scowls and strained patience… The brief moment of disdain that laid itself over her face whenever she had to eat olives – or any other bitter or overly salty food.

Her hand in mine. Her warmth against me.

The warmth that filled my body whenever she laughed at a silly joke or made one herself.

And her laugh. Her laugh, her laugh… Carved in my memory was the meadow in Wales, the sunshine, the bright blue sky… and her laugh that filled the air, rang in my ears and heart and which had been more beautiful than any song I had ever heard.

It was one of those memories I liked to dust off and replay on bleak, grey days when I had worked long, tiring hours, and her and my work had kept us apart and busy for too long.

If he had heard this laugh once too, what other reason could he even need to be in love with her?

“God, what am I thinking?” Cedric mumbled into his pillow. “What’s the matter with me,” he said and rolled around again, trying to shake off these thoughts, shake off these thoughts which had not arrived with Cecelia’s words. They had been infesting his mind for weeks and weeks and months and months. They had come one day in silence and never left again, no matter what Cedric did.

These thoughts had been there all this time, but he had managed to hide them away temporarily –only for Cecelia to drag them out again with her damn, damn question.

Cedric rolled around again, though his movement was a little too wild this time and he fell with a shriek. He opened his eyes, saw himself tangled in blankets and stared up at the ceiling.

If I did not know better, I would be certain that Cecelia was a demon.

“I am not,” said Cedric to himself as he struggled to sit up in this tangled mess he had made, “in love with the Countess.”

“I am not,” said Cedric as he pulled himself up and sat down on his bed, “in love with the Countess.”

He let himself fall back. “I am not in love with the Countess,” he said a moment before he sat up quickly, his heart pounding vehemently in his chest, because Newman came to his room to tell him that Cloudia and the others had returned and were currently taking baths.

***

~Cloudia~

Relief overcame Cloudia as soon as she walked over the threshold and into the château. It felt as if she had been away for a year or more, as if she had travelled far and long and finally returned home after spending a long time on the road and living through countless adventures. Only, she had been in the village down the road for less than a day. Cloudia wondered how intense the feeling of return would be when she came back to Phantomhive Manor after actually having travelled far and long with many hours on the road and adventures on the way.

One step after another.

First a bath. Then Cedric. Then catch the murderer. Then Townsend.

Then return home.

But, first, it was time for my bath…

“What is this mess?” Lisa asked. She pulled down her hood and stared at the weird “apparatus” that took up most of the entrance hall and even went up to the main staircase’s first landing. It was made out of all sorts of things, and Cloudia had no idea where to look as there was so much to see. So many unrelated objects – cutlery, books, wheels, toys, a service wagon, etc. – had come together to create this Frankenstein-construct, but for what purpose?

“That’s not a mess!” said a very upset voice. A second later, Anaïs walked into the entrance hall, carrying a few boxes of playing cards. Gérard followed her like a duckling.

“Miss Lisa,” Anaïs continued when she stood in front of them. “This is a chain-reaction machine Arnaud, Gérard, and I have been creating with Milton’s help.” With a bright smile on her face, she gestured to the machine. “Oh! And welcome back, of course,” Anaïs quickly added and curtsied to them.

“Thank you, Anaïs,” said Cloudia as servants came to help her, Kamden, and Lisa out of their wet cloaks and wrapped them in dry blankets. They wanted to usher them to their respective rooms to take a hot bath and change clothes, but Cloudia told the servants to prepare the baths and that they would go to their rooms in a little while on their own. With nods, they left, and Cloudia, Lisa, Kamden, Anaïs, and Gérard were alone in the entrance hall.

“With this now over…” Cloudia said and wrapped the blanket tighter around her. She yearned for this bath, but her curiosity prevented her from rushing to her room just now. “…could you tell me more about this chain-reaction machine as you have called it, Anaïs?”

Anaïs nodded enthusiastically. “After lunch, Arnaud, Gérard, and I explored the château. We have been here so often, but its unique shape allows you to discover new things, no matter how well you think you may know the place. So, we found this one room and a beautiful clock was in it. All gold, shaped like a cage – it even had a bird inside! And the bird sings!” She sighed. “It’s sopretty, Claudette! But then we made a mistake and the clock was damaged. The bird fell off and the clock stopped working… We panicked and walked around in the château and eventually met Duke Kristopher and Milton. Milton recognised the clock and said it is a Jaquet-Droz and very expensive and important. We panicked even more and then he said he could perhaps repair the clock! We went to his room, and it was like magic, actual magichow he fixed the clock, Claudette! I shudder only thinking about it. Afterwards, Duke Kristopher went back to his room because he was sleepy. We returned the clock to its original place and then gathered all kinds of objects to build a chain-reaction machine. As you know, Milton can’t be left alone now, so I suggested that we could build something together if he can do such things, and he said we could make a chain-reaction machine. And it’s been so fun to put everything together! Milton is amazing. He thought of most, but we helped too, of course. We are almost done! He and Arnaud should return soon with the last few bits and then we can see if the machine works. I know you are wet and tired, but it will not take long, I suppose, until they come back.” Anaïs looked at Cloudia with big eyes.

Cloudia blinked at her cousin, trying to make sense of her words. Milton had fixed a broken birdcage clock that could sing? A Jaquet-Droz even? She had heard of the Jaquet-Droz and Leschot clocks and while she did not know much about them, she knew that they were definitely not simple to build or repair. And then, Milton had also planned out this convoluted monster-machine that had taken over the entrance hall and wound up the stairs?

“Yes, I will wait a while to see the machine in motion,” Cloudia eventually said. “But Milton and Arnaud better be quick.”

Anaïs smiled at her and then turned to Kamden and Lisa. “And what about you two?”

Kamden glanced at the machine. “I think… I think I’ll wait and see the demonstration.”

“Lady Anaïs,” said Lisa, “excuse me, but I will not stay. I am wet and cold to my bones, so I must decline.”

“I understand. Warm yourself up well, Miss Lisa,” Anaïs replied, and Lisa bowed her head at her words. She was about to leave when Newman and Wentworth entered the entrance hall.

Immediately, Lisa stopped in her tracks and huffed at Newman’s sight. “There you are,” she said. “I have started to wonder whether you were eaten by this unnecessarily confusing building.”

A soft blush crept into Newman’s cheeks. “I profusely apologise, Lisa. I have been busy all day. Still, I should have worked harder to wish you a good morning earlier at least.”

“How dramatic you are being, Al,” said Lisa as if she had not complained about his busyness and absence this very morning and said that she had begun to believe that he was eaten by the château a moment ago. “It’s fine.”

“Let me make it up for you later,” Newman replied with a smile and then turned to look at Cloudia and Kamden as well. “Welcome back, Lady Cloudia, Mr Emyr,” he said with a bow. “I suppose preparations for your baths are being undertaken at this moment?”

Cloudia nodded. “Indeed, though Emyr and I are waiting until Milton and Arnaud arrive so that we can watch the chain-reaction machine’s demonstration.”

“I see,” Newman replied, and right on cue, Milton and Arnaud entered the entrance hall. They halted at everyone’s sight.

“Lady Cloudia, Emyr, Miss Greene,” said Milton, looking rather surprised to see them. “Welcome back. I did not expect to see you here. Or you, Mr Newman and Bram.”

“Everyone has been waiting for you, Milton,” Cloudia told him. “We are very much looking forward to seeing you demonstrate the machine you put together with Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gérard.”

Milton’s eyes widened. “You have been waiting to see this machine work although you are wet and cold?”

Kamden nodded. “Yes.”

Milton blushed and looked down at the final piece in his hands, a small toy wagon. “Then, we should not leave you waiting any longer.” He was about to set out to make his finishing touches on the machine when Wentworth said, “A moment, please, Master Milton.”

Milton turned to his butler who walked to him, held his arm, and put a hand on his cheek to crane his head to inspect him. “Mor,” Wentworth said softly. Cloudia had heard this voice of his many times before; still, it always surprised her anew. “We have been separated all day – how have you been?” the old butler continued. “Did you get lost?”

Milton leaned a bit into his touch. “Almost,” he answered faintly. Their conversation, despite being held in the presence of others, felt so private, Cloudia was nearly embarrassed for listening to it. “But Kristopher was there for me, and then Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gérard. It was all right. I am all right – I am as well as the circumstances allow me to be, Bram.”

Wentworth let go of Milton’s arm and cheek, and Cloudia could have sworn to have seen a smile on the butler’s face for a split second. “That is good to hear, Master Milton.”

Cloudia tore her eyes from the scene – and noticed Lisa next to her grimacing at them which made her chuckle. Lisa had always disliked seeing Milton and Wentworth displaying their closeness.

Some things never changed.

“Ah, the chain-reaction machine,” Milton exclaimed, “but first before I forget it.”

He swiftly took hold of Kamden’s hand, and Kamden blinked at him, clearly taken aback by the sudden touch. “I know this is several hours late,” said Milton with a smile on his face. “Still, I wanted to thank you for helping me during breakfast.”

Kamden blushed and promptly looked away. “Youu… Yooou’re we-welcome, Milton.”

Milton’s smile brightened a little and then an embarrassed blush crept into his cheeks and he let go of Kamden’s hand. “I am so sorry, Emyr. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to take your hand like that.”

“No-no, it… it is aaall right,” Kamden replied, still keeping his gaze diverted from Milton.

Milton smiled awkwardly at him and then looked at Anaïs. “Anaïs, do you have the card games?”

“Yes, I do!” Happily, she handed them to Milton. “Thanks,” he said and then hurried upstairs to do… something. Cloudia could not tell what he was doing from where she was standing, though he seemed deep in concentration as he set the pieces in place.

“Anaïs, Arnaud, Gérard,” Milton said after a little while. “May you come up here please to set the machine in motion?”

The children looked at one another for a moment before they bolted upstairs with surprising care not to destroy the precarious apparatus. When they arrived by Milton’s side, he turned to speak to those downstairs, a shy smile on his lips, “It has been a while since I last created a chain-reaction machine, but as this one has been a group effort – and Anaïs, Arnaud, and Gérard did so well for this being their first one – I would say that it will be a success. I hope you will enjoy the demonstration.” He nodded to the children who together pushed the wagon forward to set the machine in motion.

The wagon collided with a row of playing stones that fell down one by one. Like dominos, they fell – and so did the rest of the machine. One part fell into the other, drove into the other, circled and catapulted and pirouetted and rolled into the next. One by one, the separate parts and objects handed the energy the children had put into the machine with their push to the next in line. This inanimate relay race continued down the stairs, circled and zig-zagged over the entrance hall’s floor. It was fascinating to watch the objects interact, and all their interactions cumulated into a set of domino stones falling against a doll that had held down a wound-up music box. The doll tumbled down, the pressure was taken from the music box – and its song echoed through the hall.

Excitedly, Anaïs and Gérard and even calm Arnaud jumped up and down when the music box’s melody rang out. “It worked! It worked!” they chanted and hugged one another.

Cloudia started to clap and the others joined her, even Lisa who had said that she would leave but who had been intently watching the machine in action. The children hugged a taken-aback Milton. He turned red in all this joy and the praise he and the children received from those downstairs. It was a lovely sight, and it had been a triumphant, satisfying moment when the box had begun to sing. Still, a bad feeling had overcome Cloudia when the machine had reached its end. She was glad no one noticed how stiff her clapping was.

***

~Cedric~

Cedric thanked Newman for the information, and when Newman asked him what had happened to his bed and offered to tidy up everything, he declined the offer and said he would fix it himself. He forced himself to smile to seem normal and not distressed from his mind infestation and sleep deprivation. Then, Newman left, and the first thing Cedric did afterwards was to rub his eyes and stand up. He swayed a little, but quickly recovered and went to the little desk where Cecelia’s evil coffee still was.

Cedric had planned to sleep a bit before Cloudia’s return so that he would be energised enough again to be able to talk to her at length. Only he had been unable to catch any sleep, and the coffee had helped him earlier. It would have to help him now too. Cedric braced himself before he poured himself another cup and drank it like it was bitter medicine.

It was worse than before. Earlier, it had at least been hot and fresh, now it was cold, and every fibre of his being protested as Cedric forced the cup down.

If this didn’t work now…

Grimacing, Cedric put the cup down. It was as vile as before, and the coffee’s bitter taste stuck to his mouth and throat in the worst way possible. He then walked to his bathroom and splashed cold water into his face – however, he had forgotten to remove his glasses first. Cedric cursed and took them off. His vision blurred, and he kept his face close to the furniture to see anything at all. It must have looked comical how he was hunched over, dripping to the ground and onto objects, carefully moving from the sink to the shelves to find tissues. Normally, Cedric would have wiped his glasses on his clothes, but that would wet them, and he neither wanted to look even more dishevelled than he already did when he met Cloudia nor was he pretending that he would have enough energy to change.

If someone entered my room now…

After an agonising while, Cedric finally found some tissues and dried his glasses. He put them back on, walked back to the sink, took them off to wash his face again and dry himself off, and then put his glasses back on. He felt like a fool with every action he took, but it couldn’t be helped. Cedric rubbed his eyes and squinted at his reflection.

He looked awful. Maybe, before he had washed his face, he had looked worse, but he had forgotten to look into the mirror beforehand. At any rate, he looked pale and exhausted and had dark rings under his eyes. Cedric knocked against his head to set his tired brain in motion to think of good excuses and come-backs for later when Cloudia would remark on his appearance. At least, while he could not fix his face, he could fix his hair which had turned into a bird’s nest.

Cedric leaned against the sink – he wanted to sit down but knew very well that he would be unable to stand up again if he did – and stared at his reflection while he brushed and brushed his hair. The length was a hassle. Hard to wash, hard to brush, hard to maintain. Still, Cedric could not imagine ever cutting off more than just the tips again.

When he had brushed out all knots, Cedric bound his hair to a ponytail and then stood for a moment in his bathroom. The coffee’s bitter taste still clung to him, and the cold water had minimally helped to wake him up.

Maybe I should move around a bit. Wake up my body, get my blood pumping. I had no idea how many minutes ago Newman had come to tell me that Cloudia, Kamden, and Lisa had returned from Nanteuil-la-Forêt, though I discerned that enough time must have passed that Cloudia would now be in her room.

I guessed she would want to talk. She always did even if I were to say nothing at all, not that I had ever sat quietly and listened; she liked to have someone to whom she could talk about her cases. Talking to yourself too often was, after all, maybe not the healthiest in the long run.

Still, I didn’t think that Cloudia would come to seek me out. She would want me to come to her. After all, I had, theoretically, the opportunity to rest and catch up on some sleep, and she had been wandering around Nanteuil-la-Forêt all day in terrible weather and must now be awfully exhausted. Cloudia couldn’t know that I had delayed my rest and that Cecelia had come to ruin my day and sleep.

Of course, I could tell her that “yes, I know that you are expecting me to come to you, but Cecelia was being a nuisance and did not let me sleep, so could you come to me instead?” But I didn’t want to sound whiny, and moving would likely help me to shake away some of my sleepiness. And I needed to be, I wanted to be awake when I talked to Cloudia. I had, after all, much to say to her too.

Cedric clapped his cheeks a bit and then coerced his protesting body to leave the room and get to Cloudia’s. At least, it was not far.

***

~Cloudia~

Cloudia sighed in relief when she slipped into the warm bath. She had known that she needed this for hours, but she had not known how much she needed this until she was doused in water.

My body warmed up and relaxed, soaked in bubbly, scented water. The water soothed my muscles, untangled my thoughts that laid in my mind as a ball of string. The strings came loose, snippets of today rattled my mind: the carriage ride, the rain, Yvette, Antoine, the tailor’s shop, the bakery, the church, Nicolette and Marcel, Hector, Armelle, the rain, the rain…

I could stay in the bath forever. Let my skin shrivel for warmth and relaxation, for comfort and peace.

At least, I wanted to stay until I could sort all I learned today and the days before. Bring the pieces together bit by bit like the chain-reaction machine, laying the pieces out one by one in my head before I wrote them down. Laying them out until they clicked into place and I reached a conclusion.

But it was only a small part of me that wanted to remain here. To think this through all by myself. A small piece that was still the lonely girl of the past that had no one to talk to, no one to listen to her words.

I had one now.

With yet another sigh, Cloudia emerged from the water. Her body was refilled with energy. She could do anything – sprint over fields, climb mountains, swim across seas – but for now, it was enough to get dressed and cross a few corridors.

And the thought excited her more than anything else she could do now.

***

~Cedric~

It was such a short way to Cloudia’s room, but Cedric’s tired bones made him feel every step, every movement, every minute and second. It was not a long way; still, he felt like he had been wandering for hours like an adventurer crossing forests, deserts, glaciers in the hope to find anything at all that was not a tree, a dune, a sheet of ice.

Cedric had seen enough carpets, enough lamps and portraits and vases of flowers, had wandered enough corridors that looked the same.

His destination was so close, yet so far. And so he trudged through monotony until finally, finally he arrived.

***

~Cloudia~

Quickly, Cloudia put on layer after layer of undergarments before she stepped into a yellow dress. It was not a colour she usually wore and would pick herself. Cecelia had chosen the dress, telling her that yellow complemented blue and that she was young and should bring more colour and change to her wardrobe. Cloudia had accepted the gift with a raised eyebrow. After all, she very much doubted that even though blue and yellow were complements, the dress would look flattering on her – and Cecelia who had not worn anything but black for nearly seven years had made this remark. On a whim, Cloudia had agreed to pack the dress when Lisa and she had been laughing over it during travel preparations. And she had only chosen to wear it now because, after all that rain, she could not bear to wear anything blue or dark.

Now, wearing it for the first time and looking at herself in a full-length mirror, Cloudia had to admit that Cecelia had chosen well: She looked brighter, looked like she was glowing, and the yellow of the dress went exceptionally well with the blue of her eyes and hair. Baffled, Cloudia gazed at herself from all sides. If Cecelia saw her in this dress, she would never talk about anything else again.

Let her talk. I did not care. At least not now.

Cloudia tore her gaze from her reflection and then went to leave her room. Talking to Cedric about cases had become a normalcy in the past months; he would expect that she wanted to talk about the Nanteuil-la-Forêt murders now. Expecting this, Cedric often came to her, but Cloudia would seek him out just as often. She could wait a while until he appeared on his own. However, she doubted this would happen today: Even if Cedric had been able to sleep for a few hours, he would still be tired. Newman would have informed him of her return by now, and this and the expectancy that she wanted to talk made her sure that Cedric was awake now – awake and waiting as he, while he was ready to talk and listen, would not want to go to her room in his current state.

It was her turn to visit him.

Cloudia pushed open the door and walked down the corridors to his room. It was, thankfully, not very far.

***

~Cedric~

The carpet looked the same in all passages. No matter the wing nor the floor, the carpet was a rich burgundy hemmed with gold and lightly threaded with other shades of dark red. Every step Cedric took was heavy as if his shoes were made of lead. The corridor did not seem to end, and he grew sick of the carpet.

And then a dash of yellow entered his sight. The colour clashed horribly with the carpet but still brought a smile to Cedric’s lips.

***

~Cloudia~

Energised by the bath, Cloudia wanted to dash through the halls, gather her skirts and run, but she held herself back and covered the distance between her and Cedric’s room in long, fast steps instead. The corridors’ colours blurred a little, ran into one another – the burgundy of the carpet, the beige of the walls, the gold of the frames and the light emitted by the lamps –, partially because of her speed, partially because Cloudia did not pay much attention to them.

Gracefully hurrying through the halls, it did not take long until Cloudia spotted a dark figure. He moved slowly and did not mix with the other colours. A steady, separate spectre – and she smiled upon seeing him.

***

~Cedric~

Cedric wanted to rush to her, wrap his arms around her, whirl her around. Only, his body betrayed him, and while he made the first step after they both had halted for a moment when they had spotted each other, it was her who reached him first.

He wanted to tip forward, fall forward and into her arms, but he caught himself and stood upright.

“Undertaker,” Cloudia said, and his heart stopped for a second when she took his hand and smiled at him, shining so brightly from inside and from outside in this yellow dress… “Undertaker, come, let’s go.”

***

~Cloudia~

Cedric’s body temperature was slightly too low. It was something she always noted whenever she touched him. Colder than the living, warmer than the dead. Cloudia wondered if it was a trait he shared with the other Grim Reapers or one that was all his own. She tightened her grip on his hand and did not let go until they were inside her room and she had placed Cedric in an armchair. As soon as she let go of him, he fell back into the chair like a puppet whose strings were cut. He looked pale and had dark rings under his eyes. The few hours of sleep she guessed he had definitely hadn’t been enough. Cedric certainly needed to get back to bed after their conversation and dinner.

Cloudia clenched and unclenched her hand. Apparently, it was now her hand’s turn to be cold. She sat down on a sofa opposite Cedric and when she was done arranging her skirts and brushing her hands over them, she looked up and saw him grinning like an idiot at her.

“You are grinning like an idiot at me,” Cloudia said, and his smile widened.

“I must be an idiot,” Cedric replied, and she was stunned by his sudden introspection. “Because I missed you all day, Countess. You were gone for a day, not even a day, but it feels like years have passed since we’ve last seen each other.”

Cloudia chuckled, and he continued, “Who would have thought that, at the end of the day, you are the most normal person here.”

“Beside you?”

“Beside me, of course.”

“I would not exactly describe you as ‘normal’ in any way, Undertaker.”

“Me neither, but this is a madhouse! A madhouse! No matter how weird you are, you become the most normal person as soon as you enter a madhouse. The competition is too hard.”

“Even for you?”

“Even for me.”

Cedric smiled at her, and she smiled at him. There were a million things she could have said now, so many possibilities that were ready to be spoken out – and out of them all, Cloudia chose a question she wanted to ask, but not one that rang true now. “How was your day, Undertaker? Did you play chess with Milton like you planned to?”

Cedric sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I was able to play chess with Milton. He was fairly good, but I still beat him every time. Except once.”

Cloudia’s eyes widened, and he laughed. “I lost on purpose! He is doing so badly today; I didn’t want to be too hard on him. I let him win the first round we played, but Milton noticed it and told me to play normally. I did not think that he would notice. But then – I told you that, remember? – he somehow correctly guessed that I’m allergic to cats. Milton is as strange as he is nice. Anyway, we also ate together and then he fixed some pretty birdcage clock Anaïs, Gérard, and Arnaud accidentally damaged.”

“Anaïs told me about it,” Cloudia said. “Earlier in the entrance hall. They were building a chain-reaction machine there, and we arrived just in time for it to be completed and watch the demonstration.” She let her gaze drift through the room, let her eyes jump from shelves to books to lamps to paintings.

“You look worried. Are you all right?” Cedric asked, and she looked back at him. “I am. There is just so much on my mind right now, as you know,” Cloudia replied. She took a deep breath. “I… I didn’t know that Milton could build such things.”

“You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “I would say that I know him fairly well, but I did not know about this until today. Just like I didn’t know that you were allergic to cats until today.”

“It never came up. We’ve never run into a cat together, and I could start to sneeze like I’m a step away from my second death and tell you, ‘Countess, I have a confession to make: I am allergic to cats.’ You were my cat-repellent until now, Countess.” Cedric shifted in his seat. “You can know people for years – friends, family, colleagues, etc. – and never know all they are. Some things simply do not come up in conversations. You can know people for decades and still discover new aspects of them. It happens.”

“You’re right. It’s only…” Cloudia sighed and brushed non-existent dust from her dress. “I doubt this will become an issue. I do not want to sound overly arrogant, but if I didn’t know, what are the chances many others do? Milton’s quite isolated after all. Still, I cannot wonder: How many do know about this and how good he is?”

Cedric blinked at her and then his eyes widened when he understood what she meant. “The box.”

Cloudia nodded. “The box. It was the first thing that came to my mind when I saw the chain-reaction machine work. I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but it’s not a simple construction at all. And the Jaquet-Droz clock – I have heard of those clocks! They aren’t easy to create or fix either. I have no idea if this means that Milton can open the Queen’s box. It doesn’t even matter if he can or not. If Townsend could not find the Clockmaker and learned that Milton might also be able to open it, he would definitely force him to try.”

Cedric took a deep breath. “I would say you are worrying too much about this, Countess. As you have said, it is highly unlikely anyone knows beside those who are here in the château…” He suddenly stopped talking and all colour vanished from his face.

“Undertaker?” Cloudia said and stood up to walk to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but...” He looked at her. “Countess, I’ve been in cahoots with a demon.”

“Excuse me?”

“You see, Countess, two days ago, Cecelia gave me some papers on Milton. She said that you forbade her to research him, but she still did it because she didn’t want to go on the same ship as him unless she knew all about him. Only she could not find out everything because Milton’s extraordinarily secretive and large parts of his history are widely unknown. That’s not all: Cecelia has also heard of a weird rumour that Milton’s smuggling weapons with his trading company! Those rumours surfaced one day. Interestingly, before they could blow up and be everywhere, they vanished overnight. Cecelia caught them in time though and as the situation is so odd, she is, of course, especially suspicious. Rumours don’t have to mean anything, but the fact that they disappeared that fast means that someone wanted to get rid of them. Of course, this could have been done to protect the Salisbury Company’s reputation, though it’s unclear if this was the case or if there’s not another reason…

“Anyway, Cecelia is immensely suspicious when it comes to Milton. The rumour is bad enough, but then there is also his hidden history. It’s easy for her to find out everything about anyone else; only, she cannot find out many things about Milton. It annoys her. It also annoys her that he learns his employees’ names and gives them gifts and amazing pay and benefits. Cecelia thinks that it is only a ‘good persona’ and that he is, in fact, a terrible person. As Cecelia is Cecelia, she does not want to take the rumours at face value and told me about them so that I can spend time with Milton for her and find out if he seems like the kind of person who would viciously smuggle weapons.

“I think that everything about this is silly. I swear I only spent time with Milton because I wanted to spend time with Milton and because there was no one else I could spend the day with – not because Cecelia made me do it. Only, of course, her wicked words were always at the back of my head while we talked and played and cooked and you know. And I spent the entire day with Milton! It was interesting. He’s very odd, but under no circumstance, I would say that Milton is an arms smuggler. This doesn’t fit at all. And then I thought: If Milton is not the smuggler but his company is, in fact, involved in illicit activities and that’s how the rumour came to be, who else could be the smuggler? Milton is so careful and observant. However, he mentioned that he is good at ‘reading’ people – except for Wentworth. Thus, I thought: Wentworth is so close to Milton, and Milton can’t ‘read’ him, so it would be fairly easy for Wentworth to exploit Milton and use his company for his illicit activities. I told Cecelia how I believe Wentworth to be the actual weapons smuggler and she laughed in my face – she actually laughed at me! – because she thinks my hypothesis is beyond outlandish.

“And now, you have talked about Milton and his hobby of fixing and building objects and machines and whatnot and who could know of it: Wentworth knows of it! He literally watched him grow up and changed his garments when he was an infant! He knows of Milton’s aptitude and is apparently a dangerous smuggler that does not seem to genuinely care for Milton: Who says that he wouldn’thand Milton over to Townsend?” Cedric clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Countess! Milton is here because something went wrong with his company! What if Wentworth made sure something would go wrong and Milton had to go to France of all places to fix the problem? Like that, he brings Milton to Townsend without him knowing! Perhaps, Wentworth is already in cahoots with Townsend like I am in cahoots with the demon Cecelia. What if Townsend is not here but in Paris and Wentworth will give Milton to him when they go there? What if…”

“Undertaker,” Cloudia said, holding up her hands to emphasise that he should stop. “How much sleep did you get today?”

“I am not sleepy. No worries, Countess. Where was I again? Oh right… What if…”

“Undertaker.” She walked to him and looked down at him, narrowing her eyes. “How much sleep did you get? Did you take a nap before I arrived or not?”

Cedric sank deeper into the armchair’s cushions. “I tried but I could not. But I am awake, Countess. I drank the horrible coffee Cecelia gave me. I put my face in ice-cold water and all.”

For a moment, Cloudia was surprised that he had done all this and wondered what reason he could have had. Then, she sat down on the armrest and said softly, “Undertaker, you are talking nonsense. You always do. Right now, it is especially nonsensical. Wentworth and Milton hold each other very dearly. They would never do anything to each other. And don’t listen to that rumour: Milton would never do anything like that. Maybe someone else has been secretly using Salisbury Trading to smuggle weapons, but I assure you that it was neither Milton himself nor Wentworth.” Cloudia chuckled to herself. “What else has your exhausted brain cooked up, Undertaker? That Milton is the murderer terrorising Nanteuil-la-Forêt?”

Cedric slipped a bit down from the chair, and Cloudia stared blankly at him. “You cannot be serious.”

I had been looking forward to this – and he came with that? Seriously?

“Countess, I know it sounds a bit outlandish, but hear me out,” Cedric honestly continued and sat up properly again, and Cloudia was too poleaxed to interrupt him just now. “You remember what Maxime said? The stranger is a tall man – Milton is a tall man! The stranger likes to vanish – Milton likes to vanish! Maxime said the stranger has a ‘nice’ eye colour – Milton has nice hazel eyes! The stranger hid his hair beneath a hat – Milton has very noticeable gold-blond hair! And you found blond hair on the stranger’s bed! Today I was in Milton’s room because he had to get some tools to fix the birdcage clock. You know how odd it is that the stranger’s room is completely untouched as if no one was there? It’s the same thing with Milton’s room! Nothing looks like he ever even touched it. There are no signs of anything. I had the same feeling I had when I entered the stranger’s room when I entered Milton’s.

“I’ve not told you about this because I didn’t have the chance until now, but last night, I went to the kitchen to get some biscuits for our night talk which did not work out. I saw Milton on my way there. I turned invisible and followed him. I wanted to see where he was going because it was so late, you know? What could he possibly want to do at such a late hour? I followed him, and when I noticed that he was also going to the kitchen, I waited until he was inside, turned visible again, and went in too. I wanted to greet him and say ‘oh, what a coincidence to find you here, Milton!’ – only Milton was nowhere to be seen when I entered the kitchen! I entered it a minute after him! Maybe there was even less time between his and my entering. He couldn’t have left. Still, he managed to disappear in this minute. I was in the kitchen for about five to ten minutes and he never reappeared. What if there is some sort of secret passage in the kitchen that leads outside? What if Milton has been leaving the château via this passage to get to Nanteuil-la-Forêt and murder people? He does not seem at all like a person who would ever kill someone, but you can never know! Someone can be the nicest person around and still have a basement full of skeletons.”

While Cedric had been talking, a laugh had built up in Cloudia – a laugh that now burst out of her in full force. She doubled over with laughter and it took her several minutes and multiple attempts to calm herself down enough that she could say anything.

“Dear Undertaker,” Cloudia said, smiling. The laughter still lingered in her and it was hard to say anything without accidentally reigniting the ember. “I appreciate your efforts and that you went out of your way to make deductions to bring this case forward. However, you are disregarding one very crucial aspect: The stranger came to Nanteuil-la-Forêt and the murders started a day before we even arrived here. How could Milton have committed the first murder when he was still on his way like we were? He could have only done it if he were like you and capable of transporting himself instantly to another place. And I know for a fact that Milton cannot possibly be like you.”

She brought her face close to Cedric’s and noticed him sinking into his backrest a bit and sucking in his breath. “After all, as you’ve told me, all Grim Reapers have eyes like you, and I’ve seen yours enough to be able to say that Milton certainly doesn’t share that trait with you.”

Still smiling, Cloudia backed away, and Cedric breathed out again. Did he forget to brush his teeth and did not want her to know or why was he doing this? “Undertaker, you are too sleep-deprived to think properly.”

“I am not,” he protested.

“You can barely keep your eyes open as we speak. Go to sleep.”

“No, we had this already!” Cedric sat up straighter and then fell back again, his body too tired to hold him up.

“You don’t have to push yourself like that. If the rain stops tomorrow, you’ll have to wander to the Clockmaker, have you forgotten?”

“I do not care about the Clockmaker!” Cedric exclaimed. “I do not care about this case, about this mission. I am only here for…” He trailed off and looked away.

Cloudia raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you are here for, Undertaker, it is no reason to die a second time because you didn’t want to go to bed.” She brushed over his face, and he tensed for a second but there was not enough strength in him anymore and he immediately relaxed again. Cloudia rested her hand in his hair, and Cedric’s eyes fell closed.

It was astonishing how feathery and soft his hair was, considering how rarely he washed it. It was so silky and pleasant to touch; one could almost forget to wash their hand afterwards.

“You should go to sleep now, Undertaker. You are completely exhausted. We can always talk later.”

“No, Countess,” Cedric mumbled and opened his eyes again. “Perhaps I can’t talk much anymore, but I can listen. I can listen.” To her surprise, he took her hand. “Just tell me anything. I’ll lend you my ear for anything. I don’t want to sleep now. I can’t sleep now. I…” He yawned. “I’ve waited for you to come back all day…”

Cloudia’s eyes widened and she suddenly pulled back her hand from his head, and Cedric’s head rolled back and fell hard against the backrest. He groaned, and she put a hand over her mouth. “Why are you always hurting me… Countess…”

“This time I didn’t mean to do this,” Cloudia said and stood up. Surprised by her own action, she had forgotten that they were still holding hands. Thus, when she abruptly stood up, Cedric was first pulled forward and then let go and his head collided just as hard against the armrest. He groaned and mumbled something into the armrest Cloudia could not make out.

What was wrong with me?

“Let me get you something to cool your head. You’ve hit it twice now,” Cloudia said and hurried to the bathroom. She grabbed a towel and ran it under cold water. Cloudia turned off the tap and briefly looked up, catching a glimpse of her flushed face, before she hurried back to the main room.

“Undertaker,” Cloudia said, “this will be cold now; beware.” She was about to put the cold, wet towel on Cedric’s head when she noticed that he had fallen asleep.

Cloudia sighed and smiled at him. Then, she put the towel in the washbasin and called Newman to carry Cedric to his room.

***

Her stomach made highly unladylike sounds while Cloudia walked to the dining hall, and she was quite relieved that no one was with her to hear them, even if it was a little boring to walk alone. She sighed. It couldn’t be helped though.

To entertain herself and drown out her stomach’s noises, she mumbled a poem to herself: Thy soul shall find itself alone/’Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone –/Not one, of all the crowd, to pry/Into thine hour of secrecy:/Be silent in that solitude/Which is not loneliness – for then…

“‘The spirits of the dead who stood/In life before thee are again/In death around thee,’” Cloudia heard a voice behind her and startled. She halted and turned to see Milton behind her who was looking absentmindedly ahead. “‘And their will/Shall then overshadow thee: be still,’” he finished the stanza and then blinked – and turned red when he saw her.

“Ah, Lady Cloudia,” Milton struggled to say. “I am sorry. That must have been so weird… I’m so sorry. I… I heard you start and I recognised the poem and I couldn’t help myself and continued half-consciously – I had not heard it in a while and…” He craned his head to the empty corridor behind him and swallowed. “After the kitchen… Anaïs forgot to get something for Gérard, but Arnaud had to go to his father, and she could not leave Gérard with me and could not leave me alone. I assured her that it would be fine; I said I was fine enough to walk a bit alone, and she left after I convinced her, but said she would be quick and would catch up with me in no time. She’s still not here, and I feel very guilty relying on a little girl. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have. I thought… I thought…” Milton scratched at the hem of his sleeve, a nervous movement that Cloudia had not seen before and which made her eyes widen in concern.

“I thought it would go well because I did fairly well while we assembled and disassembled the machine and then went to... Then, she left… she left, she ran away, and I…” His eyes became distant, and Cloudia stepped forward and gently took his hand. It was an instinctive action – how many times had she seen him like this? how many times had she helped him through this? – and what little awkwardness she might feel now, taking his hand again after all this time, was drowned out by focusing on the situation at hand.

“Milton,” Cloudia said softly, “what do you need me to do?”

Milton looked at her, though it seemed more as if he was looking through her, his wide eyes looking, searching for something, someone else. Cloudia had never doubted the story of his weak heart and childhood illness, but she had always wondered if there was not more to it than he was comfortable to share; it just seemed so much like he was stuck in a nightmare.

Cloudia slightly squeezed Milton’s hand, and it seemed to help. His face twitched a little, and he closed his eyes, breathing a bit raggedly. “I… I…” Milton pressed out. “There is too much, too much… I cannot recall how it goes on.”

She smiled. “It is fine, Milton. I do. I do. ‘For the night – tho’ clear -- shall frown –/And the stars shall look not down, /From their high thrones in the Heaven,” Cloudia said and wished to have chosen a more pleasant, less heavy poem than one titled “Spirits of the Dead.” “‘With light like Hope to mortals given –/But their red orbs, without beam, /To thy weariness shall seem/As a burning and a fever/Which would cling to thee for ever.’”

“‘Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish –,’” Milton continued slowly, eyes still closed, his hand loose in her tight grip. “‘Now are visions ne'er to vanish –/ From thy spirit shall they pass/No more – like dew-drop from the grass.’”

Milton opened his eyes again and the odd far-away expression was gone from them. A little smile appeared on his lips, the kind that made it seem as if he was half-dreaming, half-awake, and Cloudia was rather relieved to see it. “Lady Cloudia, you’re here,” he said as he always did.

“I am,” she responded. “Tell me, what do you need now?”

“I want to sit down,” Milton said after some time of consideration. Without letting go of his hand, Cloudia carefully helped him to sit on the floor and lean against the wall. She sat down opposite from him, and their entwined hands hung between them as if he would float away and disappear if she were to let go.

Maybe that’s what would happen – that Milton would float away like a balloon into the sky or like a buoy out to the sea.

Milton and Cloudia sat like this in silence for a few minutes. He breathed in and out evenly to calm himself down, and she scrutinised him. Seeing Milton like this reminded her how ridiculous Cedric’s words from earlier were. Still, thinking about them again, Cloudia remembered something. The thought had lingered in the back of her mind since Lille, only she had been unable to grasp it until now. She had heard the name “Quentin Nichols” before; she was sure of it now.

In 1843, he had killed one of his co-workers. Quentin had managed to escape, and Scotland Yard had been searching for him since.

However, Cloudia could not imagine Milton hiring anyone without doing a background check first. Quentin’s crime had been in the newspapers for some time. It wasn’t an unknown case. Perhaps the Quentin Nichols she had met in Lille was not the same as the one she had heard of? That was possible. Milton surely would not employ a wanted criminal, and Quentin’s full name was “Quentin Thibault-Nichols.” The Quentin from the papers didn’t have a hyphenated surname. The Quentin from Lille might have been born a “Thibault-Nichols” or one part of it might come from his wife. As “Thibault” preceded “Nichols,” it was more likely that “Thibault” was Quentin’s birth surname.

Cedric’s absurd theories had really got to me.

“Lady Cloudia,” Milton said eventually. He still looked like he had seen a ghost, but some colour was slowly returning to his face. “I am sorry for making you see and do this again.”

“It is all right, Milton. You cannot help it,” Cloudia replied.

He smiled weakly at her, and at once, they let go of each other. Cloudia held her breath for a moment, but Milton stayed where he was.

What a silly thought, Cloudia.

Milton dug his hands into the carpet as if he too was thinking about floating away. “Thanks, Lady Cloudia.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I may need another moment.”

“Take your time. It’s fine.”

He leaned his head against the wall, and she heard him count to himself from thirty downwards. When Milton was done, he let go of the carpet and rose to his feet. As soon as they were both standing again, Cloudia heard a screeching sound behind her. Someone was running and had momentarily lost balance. She craned her head to see Anaïs hurrying towards them.

“Milton,” she said when she reached them, “was everything all right?”

Cloudia looked at Milton, and Milton avoided her eyes and replied, “Yes. Everything was all right.”

Anaïs beamed. “That’s good. You’re getting good! I feared something might have happened while I was away. And hello, Claudette! I am so happy. Now, we can go to dinner together.” She trotted ahead, and Milton and Cloudia readily followed her.

“Where did you leave your brother, Anaïs?” asked Cloudia.

“We walked into Maman on our way! He wanted to stay with her which was better anyway.”

“You ran into your mother?” Milton said. “Anaïs, you did not have to find me then.”

“Of course, I had to! I promised I would come to find you. You never break promises!” Anaïs replied energetically. “And I could not risk an incident and lose you back to the faerie realm.”

Milton smiled. “Of course. I’m sorry for saying that. Thank you, Anaïs.”

She returned his smile and then started to chatter about helping out a bit in the kitchen with Milton and the others – they had brewed some tea –, getting the item they forgot, and running into Amélie. Cloudia listened intently to what she had to say but kept glancing over to Milton. He looked fine; he thankfully looked fine. Under normal circumstances, he would have long left such a rain-heavy place, and Cloudia felt bad again to have dragged him here.

I only hoped Paris would have nicer weather.

They had almost reached the dining hall when Cloudia saw Milton putting a hand over his chest. A cold calm rushed over her, and she was about to ask if he was fine… and then, he smiled. Cloudia looked at him in bewilderment.

“It has stopped,” Milton answered her unspoken question. “The rain has stopped.”

***

Except for Cedric and the Marquis, everyone was at the dinner table today. Even Cecelia had come and was now conversing with Sylviane about something Cloudia could not catch. Jacques and Anaïs were arguing again. Aurèle was grimly eating his food, and she spotted him glaring at Milton now and then. She had to talk to him about his, to her, unreasonable dislike of Milton later. Arnaud was helping Gérard, though the little boy could eat remarkably competently for his age. On the other end of the table, Amélie was talking to her husband and brother. A few moments ago, the constellations of the conversations had been different: Anaïs had talked to her and Kamden, Jacques had asked Milton something, and Arnaud had spoken to Aurèle. Now, the exchanges and interlocutors had shuffled and Cloudia had no one to talk to. She did not mind much. This would change soon again after all, and like that, she could properly savour the delicious soup that was part of the entrée.

Cedric would be over the moon if he had it. He would swoon and then say something along the lines of “If the appetiser is this good, how would the dessert be?”

A few times, Cloudia glanced over at Kamden and Milton who were talking. They got along rather well, and Kamden seemed slightly livelier than usual when he spoke to Milton. Since the rain had stopped, Milton was looking and doing well again. He still seemed a bit shaken up, but he was almost back to normal.

By the time the main course replaced the appetiser and tea was served with the meal, Cloudia was telling an interested Anselme about her experiences during the last Season and the bit she had to endure this Season before she had been thankfully sent away by the Queen to France – not that she mentioned the latter part, of course.

It never stopped being strange to engage in such ordinary conversations in such normal settings after having looked for a murderer and inspected corpses hours before.

Halfway through the main dish, Amélie addressed Milton: “Lord Milton, I heard that you will leave us tomorrow.”

Milton halted in his movement with the sudden addressing and put down his cutlery. “Indeed, I will leave you tomorrow, Baronne, though it will not be for long. A few days, a week at most.”

“I see. For business, I heard?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have to do some business-related duties in Paris.”

“Paris?” Amélie repeated, and an odd silence fell over the other adults. “You may not have heard of this, Lord Milton, but the atmosphere in France and especially in Paris has been considerably tense in the last months. Lately, a great number of people are heading to Paris to find work. I am sure that this will not end well considering the current situation. Lord Milton, I advise you, if you haveto go, to wrap up your business quickly and return here.”

“Thank you for your piece of advice, Baronne,” replied Milton with the trained calmness he reserved for social events such as this one. “I will take care. I will do my best to complete my work there as fast as possible then.”

Amélie smiled. “You are welcome, Lord Milton.”

***

After dinner, Cloudia instinctively headed to Cedric’s room. Only halfway there did she realise that he was sleeping and that she should not disturb him. She hovered for a while in the corridor, not knowing where to go. Suddenly, Cloudia remembered that she had wanted to speak to Aurèle, and now he was elsewhere and she scolded herself for forgetting. At least, she didn’t want to talk to him about anything urgent.

Eventually, she decided to just walk. Cloudia hoped she would think of something to do while she was moving around – and that her legs would not lead her to Cedric nevertheless. Also, she had barely been in the château since her arrival; she still had so much to see and explore.

And now, I sounded like Milton. I wondered how he was doing right now. The rain had stopped before dinner, but it had bothered him all day long. It must have been awfully tiring; not that he would ever admit it.

Cloudia wandered a while through the labyrinthine château before she grew bored. The building was immensely beautiful and filled with objects that could make her talk and talk for hours – but without having anyone to talk to, it was not enjoyable at all. She had already spent years of her life talking to herself. She was not very eager to repeat the experience. Sighing, Cloudia gathered her skirts and headed downstairs. She had no idea where those stairs would lead her but they would eventually bring her to the ground floor of which she had a fairly good grasp. From there, she could go to her room, wrapping up this tiresome day even though her blood was still boiling with the desire for more. Cloudia’s entire day had been filled with the investigation; she wanted to do something for herself. The bath had re-energised her, but since dinner, she felt even more vitalised.

With nothing else to do, I supposed I would have to satisfy this want by simply reading a book. First, I would have to navigate my way through this maze though. Next time, I should ask Lisa for the Maid’s Manifesto.

Lisa.

With an idea overcoming her, Cloudia stopped on the stairs. Of course, she had been with Lisa all day long, but apart from the deadhouse and the drives to and from Nanteuil-la-Forêt, they hadn’t had an opportunity to talk. And she had barely spoken with Newman all day too. Smiling, Cloudia bolted down the stairs to the next landing and sought out the next best servant to ask which way she had to take to get to the servants’ quarters. The servant told her how to get there, she thanked him, and then excitedly went off her way.

Cloudia was almost there – only the corridor down and then through a hidden stairway – when she noticed familiar footsteps behind her. For almost a year, those footsteps had followed hers, and she would forever recognise them: His ghostly steps which came along with a soft metallic clack. She had always wondered why, but never asked.

And then, they were sometimes so ghostly I could not hear them at all. That had been the case when I encountered him before dinner.

Her smile widened a bit as Cloudia turned around to face Milton. “I had thought of you a little while ago – and now you are here as if I managed to manifest you, albeit a little slowly.”

A small, sheepish smile appeared on Milton’s lips. “I…” He took a deep breath. “It’s good to see that you are still so lively.”

Cloudia looked at him in bewilderment. “Why shouldn’t I be lively? Because my powers of manifestation are weak and lacking?”

“Oh, well.” He looked at his sleeves and fumbled with them. “I suppose my mind is still a bit muddled from today. I did not mean to blurt it out. I… Anyway, I said this because you have been so busy lately, and you also seem deep in thought whenever I see you.”

She chuckled. “I suppose my mind is still muddled from today because I should have figured that you noticed. Don’t you always notice?”

“Not always.”

Cloudia looked at him and then shook her head before she realised with a pang that, for the first time in years, they were actually all alone again. Earlier, it had been an emergency, and Milton had barely been with her in that hallway mentally. There had been much else to focus on besides the awkwardness between them. Now, the rain had cleared and they were both well and conscious and all alone again.

The last time had been on the day of the failed proposal, and Cloudia felt awkward thinking about it. Everything had become weird and fallen apart after that day. Although they had resumed their talks via letters a few months afterwards, it had never been the same again. Their written words were always laced with a certain stiltedness, one worse than the one when their little acquaintanceship or whatever one could call it had begun. Cloudia had never known how to describe their relationship.

With the others around, it had been so easy. She could have nearly forgotten that anything had ever happened at all. Now, being alone with Milton, the distance between them was palpable again. He stood only a few steps away from her, but he could have been kilometres away. Cloudia had never been a natural when it came to understanding people. She did not have the talent to look at someone and understand, see every bit of them and realise what might be hidden. She had had to acquire this skill through hard work and training, and although she was good at it now, the skill failed her every now and then.

It did not fail her now. Cloudia had intentionally not paid it any attention before, but there was always a bit of hurt in his eyes whenever they talked. He was still friendly to her, still smiled at her, had still helped her with this trip. Cloudia had been shocked and annoyed when Milton had behaved as if nothing had occurred the day his villa blew up – a month after the proposal. She also had not expected him to write to her months later.

It had seemed as if Milton had been doing well after the failed proposal, as if he had got over it well. Accepting that he was not, that he had not, made her realise with a heavy heart that they had yet another thing in common: For one and a half years, they had pushed the memory of the proposal away and pretended that all was fine although the event still clung heavily to them. It was easier like that. Even now while acknowledging everything, Cloudia’s first instinct was to push it all away. It was a bad habit, yes, but it had been a long day. A very long day. This was her hard-earned time off. She had a murderer to catch and a thief to find. She had no time and strength to deal with the remnants of the past.

Maybe one day, she would. But not now. Not now.

“Where were you heading to?” Cloudia asked, smiling as if nothing had been. “You are quite a bit away from your room. Did you get lost again?”

“I didn’t,” Milton replied. “I wanted to go see Bram.”

She blinked at him. “In the servants’ quarters?”

He nodded. “In the servants’ quarters.”

“Isn’t it funny how I planned to go to France at the same time you planned to?” she said. “And how now, again, I am going to the servants’ quarters at the same time as you are?”

Milton chuckled. “It is indeed quite funny,” he said and walked towards her. “I guess you know the way?”

“Yes, a footman told me. Do you?”

“Yes. I…” He hesitated. “I have been charting the château.”

“Huh?”

“Did I never tell you?”

“No, never,” Cloudia told him.

Cedric’s words came to my mind: “You can know people for decades and still discover new aspects of them. It happens.” And now I had found out two new things about Milton in a single day.

Milton smiled bashfully. “I like to create maps for buildings, make my very own blueprints. It’s an old habit of mine, and I know it is strange but…”

“There is so much to see, so much to explore even in a building?” Cloudia continued, smiling.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes.”

“You are becoming predictable, Milton.” She put her hands on her waist, content that she got at least that. “Also, when I said that I was thinking of you – and unwittingly conjured you by doing so – I thought about this exact thing.”

Milton closed his eyes. “‘There is so much to see, so much to explore. Roads to travel, people to meet, mysteries to unravel.’ Right, I said that to you.” He reopened his eyes, and they began to walk, side by side, down the corridor and to the hidden stairway without any of them having to indicate to do so.

“Mysteries,” said Cloudia; the word alone brought excitement with it, and she hoped she did not sound too eager as she continued. Not that Milton had ever seemed to care for that. “Have you found any on your most recent travels? Where have you been last again? Sweden?”

“Yes,” Milton replied, paused, then added: “Yes, I’ve been to Sweden last. I’m not sure about mysteries though. There has been the occasional misplaced document, but that’s not really a mystery, isn’t it? And while this is also not a mystery – after all, I know how this came to be – there is this mistake I have to fix and for which I have to go to Paris. Maybe you could call it a bit of a mystery still… the Paris part at least. I need to go there to find something out; however, I don’t quite know what will await me there. I cannot measure the extent of what I will learn there and…” He fidgeted with his right sleeve. “I mean I knowmore or less what will await me. It’s just the details, you know? Perhaps it’s more of a ‘surprise’ than a ‘mystery’ though. I am not sure.”

Despite our commonalities and Milton’s odd little habits, he was still so amusingly ordinary. My mystery was a serial murder in the nearby village. His, a company-intern mishap.

“Let’s call it a mystery,” declared Cloudia as they descended the narrow stairs together. He let her go first and followed her. “It sounds better like that. And it’s not quite a ‘surprise’ if you know that you will find something out, isn’t it? Only the content of the information will be a surprise, but that’s essentially what a mystery is anyway.”

“You’re right,” Milton said. “Of course, it cannot be a surprise when I am expecting it.”

“Your mind is still really quite muddled. Are you okay?”

He nodded. “It has been a long rainy day. I should be completely normal again by tomorrow.”

Cloudia threw a glance over her shoulder at him. The light was so dim here that he looked quite ghostly. “Speaking of today… how was spending time with the Duke?”

“It was lovely,” Milton replied. “Kristopher is so kind to have kept me company despite being unwell himself. I’m glad that he could finally find some sleep. I hope he will sleep well and sound. Kristopher was very patient with me all day, and he defeated me in every round of chess we played. He is really talented.”

“He sure is,” said Cloudia, remembering the countless days they had spent playing chess together and how Cedric had beat her in every single round without fail. He would always tease her for being so bad at the game. She was not even that bad; he was simply very, very good.

“Kristopher surprised me quite a lot of times today,” Milton continued. “Not that I believe that he was incapable of any of the kinds of prowess he showed today, of course. I simply have not met anyone with such chess skills in a very long time. Or anyone at all who, I suppose, correctly guessed that when it rains and my senses act up, I anchor myself by focusing on all kinds of details – often details concerning people. I have never thought about this myself before. It’s usually just Bram and me on rainy days after all.”

Cloudia halted on the stairs and turned around to him. “Oh, he did that?”

Milton stopped too, and she noticed that he had been walking a few stairs behind her to keep his distance. “It was a remarkable observation. Kristopher did not believe that you would believe him, so I wanted to let you know.”

“He did not make you say so?”

“No. He…” Milton paused. “He did say I should be the one to tell you, but what I am saying is not a fabrication. Kristopher cares a lot about what you think of him.”

“The Duke? Caring for what I think of him?” Cloudia laughed. “I assure you, Milton, that this is not the case at all. He does not care for anyone’s opinion of him or he would not walk around the way he does. He cares for mine the least of all. If he truly did, would he do me such a disservice with the way he dresses and carries himself? And have you ever seen him dance? It’s like watching a chicken hobble about.”

Cloudia felt Milton’s eyes scrutinising her. As if he was searching for something specific. Then, he smiled.

“Is something?” she asked, and he shook his head. “No. It is just that…” His gaze softened. “I’m just glad for you.”

Cloudia blinked at him, then turned and continued to descend the stairs. “Milton, the storm had gone on for very long today. Your mind is still all scrambled. Are you really fine?”

“Yes,” Milton replied, sounding a bit merrier than before. She heard him following her. “I am perfectly fine now.”

They walked for a while in silence, but the silence soon became stifling. The stairs seemed unbearably endless, and Cloudia felt herself suffocating under the stillness and her overflowing energy. “Milton,” she said to break the silence open and be able to breathe again, “the clock you’ve repaired – do you think you can show it to me before your departure? I am interested to see this birdcage clock of tales. I have heard of Jaquet-Droz clocks but never seen one in real-life.”

“I can show it to you on the way back from the servants’ quarters if it has not become too late by then,” Milton replied. “I have to head out so early tomorrow; I doubt I will find the time then. Though I will return in a few days or a week at most anyway. Thinking of it… maybe, if it does not work out later, it may be better if one of the children showed it to you.”

“I can wait if it does not work out. I want you to show it to me so that you can tell me what you fixed and how.”

“Eh,” blurted it out of Milton, and Cloudia smiled to herself. “I, uh,” he stammered. “You are interested in this?”

“Yes, I am. Very much so. I have never been very adept at creating or repairing anything, so I am quite fascinated whenever someone can. I am actually a little bit mad that you have never mentioned this talent of yours before, Milton.”

“It’s… it’s not a talent. It’s just… something to pass time with. A little hobby. I am not even very good at it.”

“Let me be the judge of this,” Cloudia said. “How many know of this ‘little hobby’ of yours anyway?”

“Not many. Before today, only my family knew. Now, everyone here knows too,” Milton told her the very instant Cloudia reached the end of the staircase and arrived in front of the door that would open up to the servants’ quarters. She waited until Milton was caught up with her before she put her hand on the doorknob.

“Lady Cloudia,” Milton said then, and she stopped her action and looked at him. “I will not ask for specifications regarding the matter that is keeping you busy,” he continued. “All I want to say is that, if you require my help, I would be happy to offer my assistance in any way. And if it is a mystery you are busying yourself with and at which you are stuck… at times, it is best to take a short break and think of anything else, do anything else. Sometimes thinking too intensely is the problem: It often blocks your mind. Letting your mind wander to different places, you may be able to think of possibilities you have not considered before.”

Cloudia’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Milton. Let’s see if whatever chaos my servants will hand me behind those doors will ease me up,” she said and opened the door. They stepped into a hallway with multiple doors left and right that led to the servants’ personal rooms. Newman had told her before that Lisa’s, Wentworth’s, and his rooms were those closest to the door and that there was a community room at the end of the corridor. Cloudia knocked on Lisa’s and Newman’s rooms and Milton on Wentworth’s. When they got no response, they walked to the community room.

“… to Nanteuil-la-Forêt today,” said Lisa when they entered. She was sitting at a table with Wentworth and Newman, some biscuits and sandwiches spread out before them. There was a pot of tea on the table and everyone had a cup in front of them. “And I tell you: Denis Cuvier attempted to kill us – what other reason could he have to race into the village with such speed? Gallop there if you want, but don’t drive a wagon like that, least of all one with people in it. Mr Emyr was rather green throughout the entire rides.”

“Telling everyone about our adventure in Nanteuil-la-Forêt, aren’t you?” Cloudia said, and everyone turned to her and Milton. From the corner of her eye, she could see Milton’s gaze wandering to Newman before he discreetly looked away.

“Our disgustingly wet misadventure, Lady Cloudia,” Lisa replied and shuddered. “I took a bath and still feel cold. I’ll be counting the sponges I waste trying to scrub off the moistness that seemed to have sunk into my very flesh and bones.”

Newman stood up and bowed to Cloudia and Milton as a greeting before he turned to Lisa. “Shall I fetch you a jacket if you are still so cold, Lisa?”

She patted his hand. “That would be nice if you can be bothered, Al. Maybe a blanket would be even better.”

“I can always be bothered for you, Lisa,” Newman said with a small smile. “I will go and get a blanket from your room at once.” He looked at Milton and Cloudia. “If you may excuse me for a moment.” Cloudia nodded, and Newman left the community room.

Lisa grinned at Cloudia. “I see you are wearing the yellow dress.”

“Yes. I surprised myself by picking it today,” Cloudia replied and looked down at herself. “I didn’t expect Cecelia to be at dinner for once, so she has seen me in it. Until now, she wasn’t able to say anything to me about it, but the time will definitely come…”

Lisa chuckled. “It had to come to this. You don’t look as silly as we imagined you would though, Lady Cloudia.”

“That surprised me too.”

“You do indeed look very lovely, Lady Cloudia,” Milton said and immediately blushed and looked away. Lisa rolled her eyes.

“Thank you, Milton,” Cloudia responded. Then, Wentworth stepped to them and bowed to Cloudia before he asked, “Master Milton, are you all right?”

Milton took a deep breath to compose himself and then smiled at his butler. “You asked that earlier already, Bram. When Lady Cloudia, Miss Greene, and Emyr returned, and we all met in the entrance hall.”

“The rain didn’t stop until shortly before dinnertime. A lot could have changed between the chain-reaction machine’s demonstration and dinner. Between dinner and now.”

“I promise that it did not,” Milton replied, and Cloudia was surprised that he lied to Wentworth like that. Though perhaps he didn’t want to disclose what had happened before dinner to Lisa?

“What I told you before still holds true,” he went on. “Kristopher and the children helped me, and I have been doing well because of that. And since the rain stopped, I have been even better.”

“Albeit your mind is still a bit muddled,” added Cloudia, and he looked at her. “Indeed.”

“I am glad, Master Milton. It was a strong storm today,” Wentworth said. “Even with the support you received, I was worried. Forgive me if I am overstepping my boundaries, but my duty is, first and foremost, to ensure your well-being, Master Milton. Next time, I will not leave your side; today was an exception I do not want to make a rule.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Bram. I…” Milton fumbled with his sleeves. “I should not have asked for that.”

“It is also my duty to worry about you all the time, Master Milton. You do not have to apologise for something that cannot be helped,” Wentworth replied, and Cloudia could see Lisa grimacing in the background again.

“I have returned,” Newman announced as he stepped into the community room, a blanket in his hands. “I apologise for having kept you waiting.” He walked to Lisa and gently draped the blanket around her.

“Thank you,” she said, and his cheeks roused a bit. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, Lisa said to Cloudia, “Not that I oppose your presence, but why have you come here, Lady Cloudia?”

“To see how you and Newman are doing, and what you are doing,” Cloudia replied and sat down at the table where Lisa was sitting. “And to talk to you for a while.”

“Is His Grace still asleep?”

“Very much, but I might have come here anyway.”

Lisa scoffed. “Very well, Lady Cloudia. Do you maybe want to play something then? To pass the time and have something else to do while we talk?”

“Why not?”

“Great,” said Lisa and took out a deck of cards from beneath the blanket. She was always carrying playing cards with her, eagerly awaiting the first available moment to take them out and make someone cry.

“Milton,” Cloudia said and turned to him. “Would you like to play too?”

Milton blinked at her, taken aback by her offer. “Oh. Sure. Thank you,” he responded and sat down – keeping a chair between them free.

“How about we play poker?” suggested Lisa while she shuffled the cards. A mischievous light shone in her eyes.

“Still taking every opportunity to practise, aren’t you?” teased Cloudia, and Lisa scowled at her.

“One day I will return there and be victorious.”

“Return where?” Milton asked, puzzled.

“Earlier this year, Lisa lost to someone in poker,” Cloudia said and earned a dirty glance from her maid. “Apparently, I am forbidden to say more on this matter. Anyway, she taught me how to play poker afterwards so that she had more people to play with. Lisa already taught the servants at the manor as they regularly arrange game nights.”

“That sounds interesting,” replied Milton. “Miss Greene, I wish you the best of luck that you will win against that person one day.”

Lisa nodded at his words and kept shuffling the cards. “Lord Milton, have you heard of poker?”

“I have, actually.”

“And can you play it too?”

“Yes,” said Milton, and Lisa was surprised by his answer – and so was Cloudia. After all, poker was still very unknown in Europe.

“Of course,” Cloudia said when the realisation hit her. “You have told me you travelled often to the States.”

“Do you want to play poker with us then, Lord Milton?” Lisa asked with a little sly smile on her face. “I can guarantee that this will not be a pleasant game to play as a newcomer, and it may be better if you found something else to do.”

“Every game is not a particularly pleasant one if you play with Lisa,” Cloudia interjected. “She is quite passionate and competitive when it comes to games.” At her words, Lisa’s little smile became a wicked grin.

Milton smiled sheepishly. “I do, in fact, know how to play poker,” he told them and worried at the hems of his sleeves. “However, I have not had an opportunity to play poker for quite a few years. Or to play any card game, to be frank. Playing cards is common at social gatherings of a more familiar nature, but as you know, I do not really attend such gatherings or any at all as I have been on the road for the last year and…” He cleared his throat. “I want to say that I do know how to play poker but I may be a bit rusty.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, it is good that you know, but I hope you don’t expect us to play kindly for your sake, Baron.”

“Oh, I would not want that,” Milton replied. “I think that no game can be enjoyed if the participants do not give their fullest. I will try my very best. I simply wanted to inform you that I’m not very good even at my best.”

Lisa shrugged. “Well, not that you would have had a chance if you were any good,” she said, and he chuckled.

“Wentworth, do you also know how to play poker?” Cloudia enquired.

“I do, Lady Cloudia,” the old butler replied.

“Then, do you want to join us?”

“I am thankful for the invitation, but I will have to decline. I have only played the game once myself and have mostly watched others play. I do not want to slow the game down and would rather spectate.”

Cloudia nodded. “I see. Feel free to watch then, Wentworth.”

“But you’ll have you watch from a place where Lord Milton can’t see you but I can,” interjected Lisa. “I do not want to outright accuse anyone of cheating – not before we have even begun playing at least – but I want to make sure that it does not happen at all.”

“I can do this if it eases your nerves, Miss Greene,” said Wentworth.

“Thank you.” Lisa smiled at Cloudia. “See? Manners.” Then, Lisa craned her head to Newman who was still standing behind her as if he was her butler and not Cloudia’s. “Al, you’ll play too, won’t you?”

He bowed his head. “As always, Lisa.”

She smirked at his words, and Newman sat down next to her.

“If I am recalling correctly,” said Wentworth, “chips are needed for this game.”

“Yes, of course,” Lisa replied. “I put a bag of them on my nightstand. Could you fetch it, Mr Wentworth?”

“Of course. I will hurry.” Surefooted and quick for someone his age, Wentworth left the community room.

“I’m glad that you play too, Mr Newman,” blurted it out of Milton whose eyes lingered a bit too long on Newman yet again. Cloudia frowned. She would have been a fool if she had not noticed Milton staring at Newman back in Dover, but she thought that, by now, the initial surprise would have waned. Apparently, it had not. At least, Milton was seemingly trying to suppress his staring.

“As it is said,” Milton continued, fidgeting with his hands, “‘the more the merrier.’ How well can you play poker, Mr Newman?”

Lisa chuckled and distributed the cards. “Trying to find out if you will have any chance at all, Lord Milton?”

“Not at all, Miss Greene. I only wanted to ask,” Milton replied. “I do not care whether I win or lose as long as the game will entertain everyone.”

Lisa rolled her eyes which Milton, fortunately, didn’t see as his own eyes were fixed on Newman who answered him, “I am not as proficient as Lisa, though she assures me that I still play fairly well.”

“Definitely better than Thomas,” said Lisa. “Which isn’t that hard, but still.”

At this moment, Wentworth returned with the bag of chips which he handed to Lisa before he went to sit at a nearby table, a bit away but still close enough to spectate. Quickly, Lisa distributed the chips and then smiled. “Let’s begin.”

***

They had not agreed to bet actual money. Lisa had never asked, and Cloudia thought that she might not have wanted to be overly brash, though she was still very brash, to Milton even if he likely would not have minded playing for money. Still, Lisa grinned like she was doubling and tripling her monthly wages with every won round and envisioning retiring early. Although Lisa was triumphant in every round, they had great fun playing the game. Milton had said that he might be rusty as he had not played poker in years, but he was a surprisingly good bluff. He was almost as good as Lisa. However, here and there, his façade would crumble: His mouth would twitch, his eyes would betray the truth… Cloudia caught it twice.

I wondered whether this was normal or a product of the fact that Milton had not fully recovered from today’s “phantom pains.”

Lisa was better at that and relentlessly played everyone to the ground. It was past midnight when everyone decided that it had become too late for another round.

“That was fun,” said Milton with a smile on his face and stood up. “Thanks for letting me play.”

“You are such a strange one, Baron,” Lisa replied and closed the bag with the chips. She did not have to do much collecting as the chips had naturally wandered to her anyway. Newman, on the other hand, had to walk around the tables to collect all the cups and the empty teapot.

“All smiles although you have not won a single round this evening,” Lisa said.

“It is only a game. I don’t particularly care if I lose or fail.”

Lisa huffed. “Well, once or twice you were fairly close to winning.” “I was?”

“Yes. It was quite a surprise – you are not half as bad as I thought you would be.” Lisa grimaced at her own words, and Cloudia chuckled at Lisa’s anguished appraisal. Then, Cloudia stood up too.

“The evening ended as expected,” she said. “Nevertheless, that were some good games. I’ll head to bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day again.” Cloudia looked at Milton. “And didn’t you say you will leave very early in the morning?”

He nodded. “Yes, I will.”

“All the more reason to return to our rooms now. You need to be well-rested for tomorrow’s gruelling carriage ride to Creil.”

“That would be good,” replied Milton and fumbled with his sleeves. “Good night, Miss Greene, Mr Newman, Bram.”

Everyone returned the “good night” and Cloudia gave her own before she and Milton left the community room and walked down the corridor and back to the château’s main area.

Unlike when they had gone to the servants’ quarters, they were silent now as they ascended the stairs. This time, Cloudia was too tired to perceive the silence as suffocating or awkward and attempt to pierce it. Upstairs, they walked around until they found a servant still wandering the halls to ask for directions and then headed to a forking the maid had referred them to. According to her, they could go to their respective wings and rooms from there.

“Until here and not farther,” Cloudia said when they arrived at the forking and halted. “Well, at least, not together.”

Milton smiled at her. “Good night, Lady Cloudia. I suppose we will not see each other tomorrow, so I guess this is also goodbye for a little while.”

“Seems like it. I wish you well in Paris, Milton. Don’t forget that you will have to show me that clock upon your return, and good night.”

His smile brightened. It was like sunshine after a long grey day. “Thank you. I will not forget this, and I wish you all the best for your mystery. Speaking of mysteries… we haven’t finished the poem earlier: ‘The breeze – the breath of God – is still –/And the mist upon the hill/Shadowy – shadowy – yet unbroken, /Is a symbol and a token –/How it hangs upon the trees, /A mystery of mysteries!’”

***

I could not sleep.

I had not looked at the clock since I had laid down, but I was sure that it had been about two or three hours since I had said goodbye to Milton at the forking. I had tossed and turned in a desperate attempt to find some sleep. I needed to be rested for the day. However, the energy and restlessness that filled my body did not allow me to sleep.

I needed answers, I wanted answers.

This needed to be over.

I had told Yvette to barricade everyone inside for the night, to huddle them together, to keep them safe. But that had not worked before.

One slip-up would mean another dead body. Another web of strings I had to investigate.

Lives and time were running through my fingers, and I was sick of it.

Cloudia kicked away the blanket and stood up from her bed. She had to go back to Nanteuil-la-Forêt. The murderer had made the worst mistake to come here, and she was dead-set to show this to them.

A stakeout was something I had not done yet.

It was time to wait and watch from the front row.

It was time to catch the culprit red-handed.

Cloudia went to her wardrobe and pulled out some clothes she could wear as “M Gauthier.” When she was done changing into them, she let her skull pendant necklace vanish beneath her shirt. She had not taken it off before going to bed. She never did as it soothed her mind to have someone on close-call in case of an emergency. Cloudia only ever removed it when she bathed, but still kept it close to her then.

Of course, this only worked if Cedric wore his necklace all the time too. And I had no idea if he did.

Afterwards, Cloudia took off her blue Phantomhive ring which she also never removed before bedtime and went to her jewellery chest. She wanted to wear it on her finger all the time, but could only ever do it when she was at home or exclusively around family. Nobody knew that the ring was in her possession – it was, after all, “Earl Phantomhive’s.” Not that this mattered now, of course. After all, Cloudia would go to Nanteuil-la-Forêt as Gauthier, and it would be rather eyebrow-raising if a simple detective’s assistant wore such a fine piece of jewellery.

Cloudia opened the chest but did not put the ring inside. She did not like to leave it behind, and in cases she could not wear it openly, she wore it on a chain around her neck. Behind her clothes, it would be concealed for all; only she would feel the ring’s comfort against her skin.

She rummaged in the jewellery chest until she found the chain and then slipped the ring on it. Just as Cloudia had finished putting on the chain, she spotted something in the chest. Smiling, she took it out and inspected it.

The four-leaved clover necklace Cedric had given her for her seventeenth birthday was a piece for which she rarely found an occasion to wear. It was too simple to wear at balls and gatherings, and Cloudia generally disliked wearing two neck-pieces at once. She only, begrudgingly, did an exception for the Phantomhive ring. The clover necklace had no place next to the skull pendant one.

However, Cloudia sometimes put the clover necklace in her pocket if she had any. Skull pendant around her neck, ring on her finger, clover in her pocket – it was a bit like a spell. But then, the clover necklace was supposed to be a good luck charm on its own anyway.

Cloudia pocketed the necklace, grabbed her cloak, and left the room.

She had gone down to the stalls often enough to know the way herself, and she went there with quick, silent strides. Denis should be fast asleep now, and a wagon would be too bothersome to bring to Nanteuil-la-Forêt anyway. A horse would do; Cloudia would tie it to a tree before going to the village.

Cloudia pushed open the door to the outside and was relieved to see the sky dark and clear above her. No rain clouds. She had seen enough of them already.

She hurried to the stalls. There, while she was looking around, trying to find a suitable horse to borrow, a voice said behind her: “Cloudie?”

Surprised to hear it here and at this hour too, Cloudia turned around and saw Kamden standing at the doorsill to the stalls. The moonlight left him as a shadowed silhouette – except for his hair which shimmered a bit under the light. Lisa was right: Kamden just looked odd with blond hair.

“Kam, what are you doing here?” Cloudia wanted to know.

“I had the weird feeling that you would be here,” he said, and she smiled. “Cloudie, have you slept at all?”

There was no use lying to Kamden. “No. I have tried for hours, but could not. I am too restless to sleep.”

Kamden nodded. “Then let me accompany you. We can take a wagon then: I can drive, and you can take a nap until we arrive.”

There was no use fighting back either. Especially not when it was already so late and time was tight. “Okay,” Cloudia said. “Let’s go to Nanteuil-la-Forêt.”

***

~Cedric~

Cedric was woken up by Jacques and as soon as he saw his face, he groaned.

“Your Grace,” said Jacques while Cedric sat up and glimpsed at the clock – six in the morning, brilliant. “It is a clear day today. It is time to visit the Clockmaker.”

***

Somewhere, United Kingdom – May 1843

~Cloudia~

They had guided her into a room where she could wait while they released him. Cloudia had not expected much of this process – in fact, she had barely thought about how exactly Oscar’s actual release would go – but having now waited for over an hour, she admitted to herself that she had hoped that someone would have simply opened his cell’s door right after she was done talking to him. Right then and there. If they had done that, Cloudia could have been on the road home now. Instead, she was waiting in potentially the least shabby room the wardens could find for her, twisting and turning her father’s sketchbook in her lap.

I hoped they had at least informed Clifford that it was taking so long. I would not want him to worry whether or not the Yard Ripper had killed me on the spot after being released or not. But then, I supposed, the wardens would certainly tell him that.

Cloudia drummed her fingers on the sketchbook and looked at the clock whose hands seemed to move painfully slow. Sighing, she flipped open the book. Since she had found it in a secret passage in Phantomhive Manor three years ago, Cloudia had looked through it a million times and every time, it gave her a warm, comforting feeling. She loved the soft brushstrokes, the precise lines made with pencil and coal. Nobody had ever told her about this hobby of her father’s, and looking at his drawings made her feel closer to him than she ever had before. It was a solace Cloudia sought out whenever the days were especially bleak or she was hit with yet another wave of loneliness, though this had been happening less and less frequently since she met Kamden.

Cloudia thumbed over the landscape drawings and went to the one that had brought her to this place. She had stared at this portrait of Oscar Livingstone for three years and wondered who and where he was. Now, she looked at it and wondered how much he had changed since Simon Phantomhive had immortalised him on paper.

Not that I even knew how exactly Oscar had looked back then. The portrait was uncoloured, a quick sketch in black coal. His hair was drawn black in it because of that, but maybe it was not that dark at all. His eyes had not been filled in, so, I thought, they must be of a light colour. Blue or green? Maybe grey?

Cloudia closed the sketchbook. Soon, she would find out. She only hoped this “soon” would not break the word’s definition. Cloudia leaned her head back, looked up at the tattered ceiling, and kicked her legs back and forth. A year ago, her feet had hovered above the floor when she sat properly on a chair. Now, her feet reached the ground, and when she kicked her legs, her feet scraped the floor – click-clack like a pendulum.

Had so much time passed that I had become my own clock?

Then, the door opened, and someone entered. Cloudia had thought at least one of the wardens would be with him, but, apparently, they had only escorted him to the door and allowed him to enter the waiting room on his own. He was truly her problem now.

“They took their time arranging the final steps of my release,” said Oscar, “but here I am now.”

With a pounding heart, Cloudia tore her gaze from the crumbling ceiling and sat up properly on her chair. Her imagination of him was replaced by reality, and she hoped she did not stare as she scrutinised him.

Oscar Livingstone towered over her in the truest sense of the word as he was fairly tall and broadly built. He seemed robust and steadfast although he was not well-nourished: His cheeks were sunken and his skin taut. If he had not been so broad, his clothes would have hung on him like laundry on a washing line. He was only forty-four, but his black hair had largely faded to grey, and it hung long and wild over his shoulders. Oscar’s beard was also long and unkempt. Despite the wardens’ efforts to shield her eyes from the other patients in the asylum, Cloudia had been able to glimpse at some of them. Unlike Oscar, their heads had been shaven. She wondered if he had resisted when they tried to shave him, or if the staff had been too frightened of him to ever try.

But it was not the fact that Oscar looked like he had not spent the last six years of his life in an asylum but hidden away from the world in a forest that surprised and fascinated Cloudia. It was his eyes which were a beautiful light blue and which, despite the last few years, were still sharp and shone with life. They also provided such a stark contrast to his hollow body.

Looking at the rest of him, she might not have stared, but she feared that she was staring at his beautiful blue eyes now. Cloudia blinked, shook herself out of her amazement, and wrinkled up her nose when her focus was broken and her senses were not directed to one thing anymore.

“You need a bath,” Cloudia said.

[elles-writing]

Secret love - Legolas x reader (pt. 1)

Legolas x elf fem! reader Summary: You are Tauriel's younger sister and fall in love with the elven prince and he with you. Your sister and his father finds out after a few years, but he can't banish you, since you're carrying Legolas' child. Warnings: fluff, Legolas and Tauriel maybe OOC Even if you two doesn't look the same, in your personalities you were pretty similar-you were brave, curious and kind. You were Tauriel's younger sister-also part of the guard-and yes, the king doesn't liked you, too. But there were a few things you and your older sister were different - and love for the prince of Mirkwood was one of them. You and Legolas were meeting up at secret. You both knew that if his father or your sister would found out, you'd be in a really, really big trouble. But you couldn't stop. Because you loved each other way too deeply to just stop it. You blushed about the memory of yours and Legolas' first kiss. It was sweet and beautiful memory you've always repeated before you fell asleep in your bed. Currently you were lying with Legolas in his bed, cuddling, whispering sweet words of love kissing... These nights were rare, they just had to be, because Tauriel could go crazy if she wouldn't know where you are. You always told her you had some business in the palace and Legolas told his father that he is working. No one ever found out. You lifted yourself up on your elbows, so now you were lying on top of him and looking straight into his icy blue eyes. His lips curled into smile. "What's happening, meleth nin?" He whispered. You smiled and shook your head. "I wonder if Tauriel doesn't have any suspicions, since our first night together, meleth nin." He hugged you and kissed on top of your head. "You know that if she had, she'd be the first to follow us and kill us both." You giggled. "She wouldn't. I am her little sister and you are her friend and a prince. She wouldn't harm any of us. Never." He kissed your forehead. "You sound like you are pretty sure." You smiled and brushed your fingers through his strands of platinum hair while lying on his chest. "That's because I am." He just smiled into your hair. "I love you." You smiled and lifted yourself up, so you could have a better look on his face. "I love you too." Then kissed him. "Let's stop talking for a while." After three hours, you were back at yours and Tauriels house. You noticed she was not in her bed, but sitting at the kitchen table. You knew that something was wrong. When she spotted you, you noticed her face. She was obviously worried, but you've seen flustration and anger in her face as well. "Where have you been, Y/N? You promised me to come back after two hours. And now the night is almost over." She stood up and you glanced away. "I am really exhausted, Tauriel, must we to talk about it right now?" You told her as you blushed. She had no idea of why you were that much exhausted. She glanced at your innocent face and sighed. "You have no idea how worried I was. You're my younger sister. What if something bad happened to you? I could never forgive to myself." You knew that since your parents died, she took care of you very, very seriously. She hugged you and stroke your h/c hair. You hugged her back. "I know, sister." The next day, you and Legolas met after training. To steal some secret kisses in the shadows and whispers of love. You cupped his face and kissed him fully on mouth. He melted under your touch and kissed you back. In a few minutes, you both pulled away for air and kissed back. Then he pulled away for an inch and whispered, before he kissed you again. "Amin mella le, meleth nin. (I love you, my love.)" You smiled into the kiss, but quickly pull away. "I have to go. Someone would start wondering of where you are." He smirked as he kissed your cheek. "Or what, well, rather who is keeping me away from my duties." You giggled. "Don't you say you're not enjoying it." He grinned and kissed your forehead. "You got me, melleth." That evening, you went home with a huge grin on your face. While you were cooking dinner, you were humming a quiet melody and Tauriel noticed. "I've noticed that you're really happy for past few years. Especially lately." You quickly turned around to see her face. Then quickly turned back to vegetables you were cutting into smaller pieces. "Is there something wrong with me being happy?" You asked. You've heard how she sighed. "Well, I just thought...no, that cannot be true." Your heart started pounding faster. Did she found out? No, there was no way...but what if she did...? "Are you alright?" She placed hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, refusing to look into her face. You were scared that she could read in your face and find out about everything you were hiding for past few years from her. "What did you thought?" You tried to sound as unconcerned as you could. "I just thought that...that there's someone who started courting you." You still tried your hardest try to hide your growing panic. "And who would it be?" You heard smile in tone of her voice. "Specifically? I don't know. But it must be someone really special to make you that happy." Blush you got when she told you that, was really deep and she smirked. "Do I know him?" You groaned, but smiled. "Will you let me finish the dinner? I am starving." She laughted and nodded. "Fine then, I'll leave you alone." And left with smile on her face. Next day you were training, as usuall, until you and Legolas had to fight against each other. You stepped forward, but then your head started feeling dizzy and his arms saved you from falling to the ground. "What happened, Y/N?" He asked you. You shook your head and tried to get out of his embrace, even if you wanted to stay. "I just felt a bit dizzy. Nothing serious." You knew that he was ready to take you to healer as soon as he got an opportunity. He called it worrying. You called it overprotecting. You tried to stand on your own, but a wave of nausea washed over you and you tried not to throw up. Legolas picked you up bridal style, even if you protested that you were fine. "Y/n, you're not okay. Just don't argue with anyone and let the healer to take a look at you." Tauriel smiled at you and you weakly smiled back at her. Legolas had to go away from the room you and the healer were in so no one could get suspicious, but he decided to stay outside and not to come back to training yard. When the healer was done, she smiled at you. "You are completely alright, miss." You frowned at her and opened your mouth to say something, but she was quicker. "You are with child." You froze. What? This was impossible. It had to be. Because if it would be true, it would mean that your and Legolas' romance would be exposed when your belly start to grow bigger, and eventually how your child would look like. You smiled at the healer and when she left, you covered your face with hands and started quietly sobbing. Legolas entered and closed the door. He quickly made his way to you and took your hands carefully off your face. He whispered in elvish. "What's happening, meleth nin? Are you...are you dying...?" His voice broke. You shook your head, which made his face to relax. He kissed your forehead. "Then what's wrong, my dear?" You looked him in his eyes and took a deep breath. "Legolas, I-I'm...I am expecting. I am with child, meleth." You finally looked in his blue ireses. He laughted, putted his hands around your waist and twisted around. "That's amazing! I am so happy! I am going to be a father, we will have little son or daughter! Or both?" You hissed at him, but smiled on his happiness. "Be quiet, Legolas." He putted you down and kissed tip of your nose, but then his face went serious as he noticed your expression. "Y/n ... you don't want this child, do you?" You just sighed. "I've always wanted to have a family with you, really, but...our love is forbidden. There is no way your father and my sister and everyone else will not find out about this when my belly starts to grow. And we both know what would happen when they will find out...I'm just so scared." you whispered. He hugged you tightely and kissed on the top of your head. "I will never let anyone to lay a finger on you or our child, I promise you." You look him in his eyes. "But besides that, we will have to explain...everything." Legolas was about to tell something, probably to ensure you, but your sister's voice made you froze. "To explain what?" You looked in her face, your own in surprise. She was standing in the door and king Thranduil next to her. "Sister..." you whispered weakly. She shook her head. "I was looking for you two, it was a while when you went away..." she tried to explain, but Thranduil's voice made you both shiver. "I want to speak with you, my son." Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but you whispered in calming elvish. "Go, Legolas. I will be with my sister." He frowned, but got up and went away with his father. When the door closed, Tauriel runned to you. "Are you alright? What questions did you mean? You know that you can tell me anything," she said and you nodded. You exhaled. They would found out anyway, you thought. There was no reason to hide your and Legolas' relationship and courtship anymore. "Alright. Well, me and Legolas are...we...we started courting a few years ago. Then we started spending some moments together and eventully...nights." Tauriel looked at you with small frown and little smirk, dancing across her lips. "So that 'palace business'...?" She rose eyebrow in question. You sighed. "Basically, it was a palace business." She frowned and smirk disappeared from her lips. She was looking serious. "So you're telling me that the night you spend in palace...was with Legolas?" You nodded. "You know that we are just low forest elves and he will marry someome with royal status, the king would never approved this-" "No, he will not. But I will marry Y/N." Legolas came in and kissed your forehead.

A/N: What do you think about this? I haven't written too much in past few months, so this took a bit longer to correct, so lemme know!

Also, part 2 is here

[imagine-loki]

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 54 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.     RATING: Mature   NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

I had a chapter ready for this but it just did not make sense in the overall story so I had to rewrite it. I apologise for the delay.

The amount of comments I have received this week have really fed my inspiration to get my ass in gear and write. Thank you for them. The more I get, the more I love to write.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

Loki and Ella smiled politely as person after person walked towards them. All through it, Ella whispered the names of those who were coming towards them to ensure there was no chance of the Jotnar making a mistake and embarrassing themselves. 

Her parents watched silently as their daughter and her husband dealt with the newcomers and different realms peoples. “They seem so alike.” Odin frowned at his wife’s words and looked at her. “They are like two dancers, working with one another in a peculiar melody. Look how Ella uses her seidr to speak with him, telling him who everyone is. Sh starts the conversation to make him feel comfortable, then he takes over. The care he is taking of her, look at how he checks on her.” Frigga studied the pair. “They have grown as beings. He cares for her now.”

“He has changed.” Odin acknowledged. “When I was last here, when our daughter nearly died, he looked like he would rather walk on fiery coals than stand near her.” “Now he seems to wish to be in her company and nowhere else.” Frigga watched as Loki beamed and indicated to Ella’s stomach, which was, much to Frigga’s dislike, being shown very obviously to be carrying a child. In Asgard and Vanaheim, women did not declare their pregnancy, they simply kept dressing as they did before but with slightly bigger shawls to cover them. Their hair was tied back off their faces, declaring their marital status but her daughter wore tighter more revealing dresses and her hair loose. She disapproved entirely of it all but seeing the Jotnar women, especially those who they were told were carrying children, they seemed to declare their conditions proudly. It was peculiar to her but seeing it to be commonplace, as a royal who visited many realms, she knew better than to comment on the cultures of other realms. She thought Ella would not be overly comfortable in such a situation, but looking at her daughter, it was clear she was entirely at ease with everything. 

“If only it was like this from the beginning,” Odin sighed. 

“They needed to learn who they are first. Together, they are growing.” Frigga smiled slightly. “We went through something similar, if you recall?” “I did not almost kill you.” Odin pointed out. “I did everything I could to make you feel at home. I ensured you had company when I could not be with you and I most certainly did not make you feel as though your mind was in such a dark place that it had your seidr trying to fight it only to have it fight your very existence.” 

“Ella is not like any other, Odin. Her seidr is so strong. None other would have been so affected.” “That is not a valid argument for this and well you know it,” Odin growled. “Her seidr being so strong is all the more reason to be more careful of her.” “I know you want to keep her safe, but I fear that you forget, she is not the small little girl that loved sitting on your lap learning to play Tafl anymore.” Frigga pointed out. Odin grunted in annoyance as his response. “Is that what it is? That she has grown up? Is it making you feel old?” “Says she who was not entirely pleased to hear she is a grandmother because she thinks it makes her sound old?” Odin scoffed. “I am not angry she has left home. I prepared myself for such from the day Eir stated she was a girl, but everything that she has been through, everything we all have been through, and for to be so strong and for that to happen. She was born too early, her sickness, that attack on Svartalfheim…” “You will never forgive yourself for that, will you?” Frigga sighed, shaking her head. “You need to cease being so concerned about something that happened centuries ago.” “She pleaded to be trained and I dismissed it. ‘What reason would she have to know such things’ I said. She would never need it. If she had not been so proficient with her abilities with seidr, she would have been sliced apart. If she had not learnt spells to heal others, she would have died. I would have had to light my daughter’s funeral pyre. When she got ill as a child, I swore to protect her but I failed her and with him...I will never forgive myself, or him for that.” Odin shook slightly, remember the day he came to Jotunheim when Ella was so ill. “She has.” “She is a better being than I am, we established that years ago.” Odin growled. “I don’t want to hold it against him. He is, after all, young and the new leader of a realm we are closely tied to. The father of my grandchild but for what he did to her, even if I live a hundred thousand more years, I will not be able to forget.” 

Frigga rubbed his arm soothingly. “We can continue to remember but we must also let go of the anger, we do not wish for it to consume us.”

Odin sighed. “Seeing the manner in which they look at one another now, the manner in which they reference that child. I find myself being reminded that my opinion on the matter is not relevant in most ways. I am only sorry that our grandson will be raised on another realm and not with us. Hopefully, Thor may see sense some day and settle down, be as levelheaded as Ella. Ever since we told her of the life she was to have, she accepted it.” He paused for a moment. “It will be interesting if she ever has a daughter.” “She is still carrying one child and you are thinking of her carrying another? What allegiance are you planning?" 

“If you think that he will allow any allegiances to take place by such means, I fear you are entirely mistaken.” Odin scoffed. “Any granddaughter she gives us will not be used in such a manner. I am merely intrigued to see how they would consider dealing with any who suggest it.” Odin’s chuckle at the thought of Ella tearing some poor being asunder was cut short as he watched someone come close to his daughter and her husband in a manner he thought untrustworthy. 

“Odin?” Frigga noted the change in her husband’s demeanour. Odin simply waved his hand slightly to tell her not to distract him as he focused on the being walking towards them. When Frigga looked to where his eye was focused, she sighed. “Oh, Norns, what is he doing here?”

Odin recalled when Thor informed them of what happened at Ostara on Vanaheim, his jaw clenching as he did so. 

* When Ella noted who was coming towards them, she groaned internally. 

Immediately, Loki noticed her apprehension, so he looked for the cause of it by following her line of sight, his own humour becoming sour as soon as he saw who had entered the hall. He leant towards Ella slightly. “Ice daggers and your throwing knives at the same time?” He suggested. 

“Tempting, very, very tempting.” She responded lowly before standing stoically once more as the grouping came up to them. “Prince Nigel.” She bowed slightly. 

Nigel looked at her with a smirk. “My dear cousin, I see you are fulfilling the role of royal wife to the best of your ability.” He indicated to her stomach. “You are well and truly of this...domain now, it seems.” “Jotunheim is my home, so it very much is a domain I am happy to be a part of. With regards to my pregnancy, I am very fortunate to have been given a partner worthy of such a name which makes the process of carrying his child far more pleasant than can be assumed for others. How is your wife, actually? I have not seen her since you arrived.” 

Loki found himself biting the inside of his cheeks as he chuckled at Ella’s blatant comments. He noted the other Vanir with Nigel were clearly thinking similarly. 

Nigel however, did not see anything amusing. “She is at home in the Vanir palace, as is her place since declaring ones promiscuity to the realm is something not to be encouraged.” 

For a moment, Loki, Ella and the Jotnar around them, including Helbindi and Byleistr thought the Vanir royal to be joking, but the less than impressed look on his face as he glared at Ella’s stomach told them that he did indeed think such, resulting in more than one scoff. To her own shock, Ella was able to stifle her own laugh. “Norns, I was not aware a woman in a relationship, be she be married or otherwise was promiscuous should she come to carry a child, what with it being the sole purpose of the act of coitus.”

“You would, of course, take offence, as it referencing your own position, Cousin. None like to think themselves to be socially besmirched but your condition, the manner you present yourself, clothing and hair-wise, it only declares one thing, a lack of mortality and promiscuity.” 

Ella licked her bottom lip before cocking her head to the side slightly. “So pregnancy in a faithful relationship is promiscuous to you, Nigel?” He nodded. “How? Explain it to me.” He said nothing. “Do not give a statement as fact if it is not such. Tell me, in layman’s terms, how a woman, who is loyal to her partner, who partakes in consensual relations with him resulting in a child is akin to what you call a ‘whore’. I am only so curious to understand your logic on this matter, please, allow us to see as you do.”  

Nigel stood open-mouthed for a moment. Well….” “And what of the father’s of these young? The sires that breed them with their partners. Are they tarred with this brush also or is it simply us women that get so cruelly smeared as unclean, I am curious?” The look in his eyes told her his thoughts. “So your wife is a slut and you are pure? Oh, you silly little boy.” She stood in close to him. “You are very brave voicing such ludicrous claims in public. I would recommend not saying such things on this realm, Nigel, you will do yourself no favours. None will be too swift to stand by you as you say them. You and I both know who the many would side with on this, on this realm, Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim and such or do you recall how your cowardice through the war is viewed through the realms?” Nigel’s eyes darted to the side. “Oh yes, I heard of it, even here, and not from a single Jotnar, for they wanted to save me the shame of having one such as you a blood relative. When my brother and my mate sweat, bled and fought for the realms while you hid like a little bitch, a ‘ickle precious princess hiding behind excuses as to why he could not fight when the truth is there are poultry in a farmyard red in colour, that lay eggs and are called hens that are less chicken than you are.” She hissed. “I am not a whore and unlike you, my existence actually matters so get your filthy, misogynistic crap out of my sight before I make it that this coronation ends with your funeral and I will make it look self-inflicted or like an accident, as you plummet to your death for ever even considering insulting me, my mate and every female on this realm and so help me, if you even look like your considering scoffing at the females of this realm for their attire or for how many are currently celebrating carrying a child I will castrate you painfully for even thinking about thinking to laugh, I swear on the Norns themselves.” 

Nigel flinched and backed away slightly, glancing to Loki as he did. 

Loki, for his part, sneered openly. “I can see what you are thinking, ‘how could I let her act like this, act like she is in charge, does it make me less male to do so’. It does not because I will physically hold you down as she does it.” He hissed. “If you dare start trouble on our realm, you will bear the brunt of the consequences, I can assure you. What you did, trying to hurt us on Vanaheim for Ostara to get a reaction, this is not Vanaheim and you hold absolutely no power here and if one word of what was said as your warning so much as makes it outside of this and we will know and we will not take kindly to you rushing to your father or brother to defend your honour, Little Girl. You want to be a tough guy, I am right here, try it but I warn you, I am not in the mood for your petty behaviour and I can guarantee, one utterance of anything resembling ridicule for my realm and my brothers, my allies, Prince Thor and even his friends will stand by my side as I deal with you.” “You cannot say such things,” Nigel stuttered. 

“It seems he just did.” Nigel turned to see a grinning Thor. “Run along now, Nidge, Ella’s patience are wearing thin and none here can stop her, you know that.” 

Nigel scarpered quickly from their presence. 

“It’s rude to threaten your guests with castration, Ella,” Thor scolded. 

“It is rude to call your host a promiscuous whore also,” Ella argued. 

Thor, who had not been privy to that part of the conversation was forced to concede it was true. “That was brazen on his behalf.” He watched as Helbindi laughed and Byleistr stared worriedly at his sister. “Just do not do it in front of everyone, it may cause some to lose their dinner.” 

“I’ll try, but I cannot promise anything,” Ella smirked before eyeing their parents watching from a balcony close by. She merely smiled at them before going to greet another who had been so rudely delayed in doing so by Nigel’s prolonged time with them. 

* “She gets that from you,” Frigga commented to Odin. 

“I never threatened any man’s appendages.” “The manner in which she spoke, not what she said,” Frigga verified. “Thank the Norns she was born a girl. She is too vicious.” 

Odin said nothing of an instance that came to his memory when Frigga carried Thor where she all but swore to obliterate the building if one courtier did not cease staring at her in a manner she thought to be unacceptable. Looking at his daughter as she went back to smiling and being polite, he feared what would happen any that thought to insult Jotunheim while her husband was king. 

[astraeagreengrass]

Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am

Sometimes, finding yourself means finding someone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.904

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

A/N: This is my submission to @wkemeup​’s 4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” by Lana del Rey. Thank you Kas for having me and congratulations on such an impressive milestone! ♡

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or any other fictional characters mentioned in this story - they are property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. The title belongs to Lana Del Rey. The plot is my own creation.

You lose your way, just take my hand  You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again

The plane left you in the border of Burundi.

From the muddy, narrow airstrip to the meeting point it took you four hours in a 1977 Jeep CJ-7. The air-conditioner was broken, forcing you to roll down the windows hoping for some breeze, but no such luck. Your hair was stuck to your nape and your skin collected mosquito bites as you drove through the heart of Africa, trailing the Mwiruzi river, guided only by an old printed map and a vibranium compass.

You reached the village at nightfall. Less than twenty houses formed a semi-circle around a tiny square, a well right in the middle of it. It was similar to hundreds of other villages you passed through on your way, but a rune drawn in white paint on the door of the house closest to the road gave it away as the right one.

You parked the Jeep beneath a Tamboti tree, tucking the keys under the passenger’s side seat cushion. Taking your backpack and a black duffel bag, you exited.

Nakia was waiting for you at the porch of the seventh house, a fussing baby in her arms. She was trying to soothe him with a lullaby sung in xhosa, her melodious voice the only sound apart from the crickets, but the child was insistent. Realizing she wouldn’t acknowledge you until the child was calm, you sat in the rickety wooden porch step, tucking your head between your knees. You hadn’t slept in over two days and finally finding Nakia gave you some unexpected relief that allowed the exhaustion to creep in.

“We’re leaving in the morning” she announced a few minutes later, when the baby surrendered to sleep. “You can rest until then.”

You wouldn’t, but it was nice of her to offer.

“It’s safe here” she added and you just nodded. That wasn’t enough guarantee to let your guard down.

Nakia sighed, only minor frustrated. Your behaviour annoyed her, but she knew she couldn’t demand much from you, even if you did look dead on your feet.

“Come on” she said, mentioning with her head for you to follow her inside. The house consisted of a single room, a kitchen, and two long, pic-nic style tables. It was relatively full, which immediately startled you, but your deft gaze was quick to assess that these people were more suspicious of you than you were of them.

There were no adult men, only women and children. The oldest boy appeared to be around twelve, and was carefully tucked to his mother’s side. There were other babies like the one Nakia extended to a girl sitting by the door, before exclaiming in igbo:

“Ayo! The milk is here!”

Ayo was a middle-aged woman mixing food by the stove. She nodded, but made no move to step away from her careful cooking.

“Are you hungry?”

You were, but it didn’t look like you were welcome. Regardless, Nakia mentioned you forward. Taking the black duffel bag from your hands, your host started taking out the cans of milk formula you bought in Johannesburg.

The request seemed odd to you at first: why did Nakia, the Kenyan heiress turned Wakandan spy, needed dozens of cans of milk formula somewhere in Tanzania? It looked as though this room was the answer.

Ayo wordessly placed a bowl of githeri in front of you. It was delicious and you didn’t hesitate when she offered you seconds. While you ate, Nakia and the cook stacked the cans in neat piles on the cabinet under the sink. You were still eating when they finished.

"We'll take your car to Mukigina" Nakia stated. "Someone will get us there."

"When?"

"In sixteen hours."

"How long from here to Mukigina?"

"A little over seven hours if we go off the road."

You shrugged. You've been going off the road for a while now.

"Can I ask you something?" she leaned closer to you. Nakia could easily be mistaken by one of your sisters, with her flawless features and deadly skills. But the gleam in her eyes, still present after all the terrible things she's seen during her undercover work as a War Dog, set her apart from the daughters of the Red Room. She wasn't broken, battered and bruised on the inside like you were. And all the horrors she'd witnessed weren't caused by her. "How did you know he was in Wakanda?"

You met Nakia at an underground casino in Busan right after the fall of Hydra. She was following a lead on a poacher of and you were following a lead on him. When the poacher  turned out to be more vicious than she expected, it was your bullet in his head that solved the problem. You never met again - until two weeks ago, when you saw her standing next to the Wakandan king at the United Nations.

"My sister was with your king in the summer" you explained. "In Germany."

"Oh" her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her headscarf. "Romanoff?"

"Yeah."

"That explains how you know him."

You snorted.

"How did you think I knew him?"

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "Honestly, for the past two years I've thought about you constantly. You saved my life and I couldn't even say a proper thank you before you disappeared. I thought maybe you were an Avenger, but you're too squirmish for that. And none of them wear black, do they? They love their bright colors."

You laughed, the first real one in a long time.

Nakia patted you on the shoulder gently.

"I meant what I said earlier. You should get some sleep."

"Sleep isn't really my thing" you muttered.

"Every single girl in this village was rescued from the Boko Haram. We secured this location a couple of months ago because these men, these terrorists… They don't care about the women they steal, but they do care about their children. Especially if they're boys. So don't be ashamed of your nightmares, 'cause we're used to them around here."

You scanned the room. Most of the girls had left, but there were still three huddling by the stove, listening carefully to Ayo's instructions. They didn't look a day older than sixteen. At sixteen, you'd already killed more men than you could count with both hands. You wondered if they'd kill their kidnappers if given the chance.

Nakia's room was in the house next door. Moonlight filtered in through the curtainless window, bathing the small chamber in silver glow. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

In less than a day, you'd gone from old cars and dirty roads to spaceships and hover carriers.

Birnin Zana - The Golden City - rose miraculously under the savanna sun. Skyscrapers as high was the eye could see, a protective dome and cutting-edge technology - all of it coexisting in perfect harmony with nature and ancient traditions.

Nakia placed you in a hut in the outskirts of the city - close enough that you could visit Princess Shuri’s laboratory everyday but far enough that the locals wouldn’t be bothered by a foreigner’s presence.

The first week was torture. Blurry recollections of your past haunted your dreams, leaving you gasping for air, staring out the window until the first light appeared behind the trees. From dawn to dusk you'd stay at the lab, guarding his frozen body like a ghost.

It finally got on Shuri’s nerve.

“That’s it. I'm kicking you out."

She sent you to the Dora Milaje. Their leader, Okoye - tall, gorgeous and intimidating - was apparently looking forward to meet you. On a grassy field overlooking the river she handed you a wooden stick.

"Let's set how you fight without a gun" she said with a smirk.

It was disastrous. Okoye and the other warriors were graceful, silent and fast like cheetahs, meanwhile you were a hippo in heels, scrambling with the wooden stick. Madame B's voice taunted you, like the devil on your shoulder, seething everytime they bested you. On the fourth day of training your demons finally caught up to you and you broke down.

Okoye held you, whispering in soft Yoruba that you were safe.

A month later you braved the market. Manioc, okra and tomatoes in a booth, turmeric, cardamom and nutmeg in the other. The smell was intoxicating, swirling in your brain in gormandize like never before. You left chewing on a ripe piece of watermelon, pink juice staining your lips, with a pot of African violets cradled in your arms.

The violets were placed in your kitchen table - two seats, one for you and one for him when he came. Soon afterwards they were joined by a banana bunch, plucked from the tree in your yard.

The discovery of the banana tree made way for lettuce, eggplant and pumpkin. The seeds were gifted to you by Queen Ramonda herself and they took to the soil like sand to sea. When you noticed the first green leaf sprouting from the earth, you wept. Your hands, once made for killing, were now giving life.

The food welcomed the children. They'd play in your yard, sidestepping the flower beds like a dance. When they grew tired, they barged in, all five or six of them demanding lemonade and strawberries and questions.

"What does snow feels like?"

"Do you miss Russia?"

"Is it true the Americans think Africa is a country?"

Like ground ice. No. Some of them do, yes.

It was late December when Shuri gave you the news.

"We're ready to wake him up."

They placed his sleeping body on the bed, saying that he should rise by himself in a few hours. Suddenly, you were fourteen again, waiting behind bulletproof doors in a secret facility in Siberia, waiting to meet him for the first time. Only he wasn't the Asset or Soldat anymore. He had a name, a history, a mind of his own.

You'd killed for him. Tortured innocents. Thwarted governments. Broke a thousand rules just to be closer to your forbidden lover. Schemed and lied looking for his freedom, uselessly. Lost yourself trying to find him.

"Come with me" Natalia pleaded. "That spy I was supposed to kill in Budapest… He spared me. Said he can take us both to America. S.H.I.E.L.D. will offer us protection."

"I can't" you refused. "I can't leave him."

"You'll die before you save him."

Your sister was wrong: you survived. And now, halfway across the world, fate gifted you with another chance.

The children woke him. They scurried out of the house, laughing and chanting. Emhlope ingcuka, they called him. White wolf.

James Buchanan Barnes found you gazing at the horizon beyond the lake. Slowly, testing his legs, he walked over to your side.

"Good morning" you smiled.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Good."

You turned then, eyes catching his in the warm daybreak. A breeze ruffled his hair and your skirt, a gentle reminder that it was real. You were real.

"James?" you tried, hesitantly.

"Bucky" he declared in triumph.

"Bucky" you liked it. It suited him. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm sorry it took so long."

His right hand squeezed yours. Callus and scars met callus and scars. Your rough edges molded into his in a perfect fit, in this new land that took you in as its own.

You were home.

My masterlist

Everything taglist: @scentedsongrebel​ @youclickedthislink​ @thegetawaywriter​

[markleesthighs]

Mea Bella | Chapter 1

Pairings: Reader x Jaehyun, Reader x ??? Genre: NCT royalty!au, angst, fluff, subtle flirting Warnings: flashbacks, forbidden love Words: 2.9K

Chapter 1 - Run with Me 

You knew Jaehyun since you were a young child since your mother worked as a maid for the castle when you were young. Your father had died in battle, which left your mother to work for the royal family. You remember that day. You were about five years old when a carriage came to pick up you and your mother. You had packed a small suitcase and held a bunny stuffed animal your father gave you. You entered the carriage hesitantly and sat looking impatiently out the window.

You stopped in front of a castle bigger than you could see, it was so big you almost fell back looking up at it. You held your mother’s hand while entering the castle past the terrifying guards and bowed to the king and queen when you entered. You hid behind your mother’s legs, being shy about meeting new people. Your mother introduced you, and you poked your head out from behind the fabric of her dress and hugged your bunny tight. Your eyes met another pair of eyes who appeared to be around the same age as you.

“This is my son Jaehyun.” the queen had said.

He was also hiding behind his mother, peering out to look at you. He waved, and you shyly waved back and continued to hide behind your mother. Another maid led you to the maid’s quarters, and your mother unpacked your things. You were too young to start work, so the queen allowed you to wander and explore the castle. You heard music coming from a room and decided to follow it.

There was a light coming from the room of soft piano keys being pressed to play a melody. You peeked and saw Jaehyun playing the piano and swaying to the music. Jaehyun noticed you, and you immediately shut the door. Jaehyun ran and opened the door to see you bowing and looking at the floor, apologizing. Jaehyun smiled and grabbed your hand and helped you up on the seat to listen to him play. You were amazed at his skill and enjoyed him playing music for you. When he finished, he looked at you and smiled

“I loved that Jaehyun, you are very talented.”

“Thank you, y/n.”

From that moment on, you played with Jaehyun often, and his mother allowed you to follow him to be his little assistant. He taught you manners and how to become a good maid, however, Jaehyun didn’t see you as another maid but as a friend. He let you join him in archery, horseback riding, and you memorized his daily schedule. One day, Jaehyun took you to the library, where he would study and read. You looked at the amazing array of books, but you never learned how to read. You’ve always wanted to learn but never had the chance. Jaehyun caught you glancing at The Great Gatsby and told you to take it out if you wanted.

“You know, you can take that back to your room if you want.”

“I wish, but I don’t know how to read.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, with my dad away I had to help my mom a lot, I didn’t even go to school.”

“Hmm, maybe I can teach you.”

“Actually? How do you even learn to read?”

“I’ll read this book to you, and you can follow along to my voice.”

Jaehyun read for about fifteen minutes before your eyes started to get droopy, and you felt very sleepy. You felt your head fall on Jaehyun’s shoulder and started to sleep. Jaehyun noticed, closed the book, and carried you on his back to your room. He laid you down and tucked you in saying:

“Goodnight, my daisy.”

Leaving the book at your bedside, so you know who bought you back to your room. About an hour later, you were awakened by the sound of a bell, which you assumed was the dinner bell. You sleepily walk to the kitchen rubbing your eyes, grabbing the water pitcher. You walked out and started pouring water glasses for the family. You got to Jaehyun and smiled and walked passed standing only if they needed their water to be filled.

“Bring in Mrs. y/l/n, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the butler.

After the butler went into the kitchen, he came back out with your mother.

“Yes, my queen?”

“I have a request for you.”

“What is it, my queen?”

“My son seems very fond of your daughter, and I would like to allow her to be his personal maid and friend, serving for this castle. I wish to appoint her has my son’s official maid.”

“I accept my queen.”

From that moment on, you were to stay with Jaehyun, get him ready in the morning, and following him through his schedules now with royal approval. Little did you know that as you both grew up, you grew feelings for Jaehyun, and you knew him better than anyone. Your new room was placed next to Jaehyun’s room, for him and for you. He would be able to ask things from you, and you would be able to serve him with ease.

~Modern Day~

You woke up in your bed, hearing the birds chirping and the sun beaming through your window. You were now sixteen, and you still work in the castle along with your mother. You stretched your arms up yawning as you walked to your closet full of the same black and white dress you wear every day. You grabbed one off a hanger, changed out of your nightgown, and into your outfit to serve Jaehyun breakfast and get him dressed. (yes, you still dress an 18-year old). You made your bed and left your room to pick up his breakfast on a. cart from the kitchen elevator.

You quietly knocked on his door and wheeled in his breakfast and tea. You opened the blinds of his room and prepared his tea with two sugars, just the way he liked it. Jaehyun groaned at the light and kept his face in his pillows. You walked over and removed his blanket, telling him to get up. He eventually got up and sipped his tea while you found appropriate clothes to wear for the day. Once Jaehyun finished eating and drinking, you helped him get dressed. You turned around as he put on his pants, and he attempted to put on the rest of his clothes.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yes, Jae?”

Jaehyun never liked it in the beginning when you called him “prince,” so he told you to call him “Jaehyun” or “Jae,” but you would only call him “prince” in public or in front of his parents.

“Can you help me with my shirt, I can never get the strings right.”

You turned and saw Jaehyun with a bare, pale chest. You took the ends of the strings and delicately laced them in his shirt. You tried to not stare, but you couldn’t help but think:

“Since when did he have abs?”

Last time you saw Jaehyun’s stomach was when you were children playing your stomaches like drums. You finished his laces and didn’t realize how close his face was to yours. Your lips only lightly brushed against his, and you turned away blushing while Jaehyun laughed at your reaction. As you turned, he held your waist and rested his head on your shoulder.

“y/nnnnn, why did you have to wake me up? I’m so tireddd.”

“You are a busy man Jae, you have a lot of things to do as an 18-year old, you’re going to take over the kingdom soon. You also have to prepare for the midnight gala, we’ve been attending it since we were kids.”

He removed his arms and his head and put on the rest of his clothes. You both walked down for Jaehyun to start his schedule. First, he had fencing. You didn’t know how to fence but always watched Jaehyun win every time. Afterward, Jaehyun took a bath while you washed his hair and got him dressed again. He had music and etiquette class while you sat and tried to follow along. Then towards the end of the day at sunset, he had horseback-riding lessons, which you were required to be on a horse.

“C’mon y/n!”

“No, Jae we have to get back ins-“

“Just ONE race, unless…”

“What?”

“You’re chicken.”

“WHAT.”

You raced Jaehyun through the vineyard and eventually found a flower field outside the perimeter of the castle. Jaehyun got off his horse and offered you a hand to help you off the horse. You stepped off, and Jaehyun ran off saying

“The race isn't over y/n!”

“Omg…”

You bolted after him, and he stopped, and you fell on top of Jaehyun. You apologized and went to get up, but Jaehyun stopped you.

“No, stay like this, I like it.”

From Jaehyun’s point of view, he saw your hair blow in the wind while hundreds of small flowers fell into your hair. With the sunset in the back, it was a beautiful sight to see. He pushed your hair behind your ear and held your cheek. You two just gazed at each other and felt yourselves getting closer and closer until you suddenly snapped out of it.

“Shoot, you have to get back home before it gets dark.”

“Alright, princess, since you want to go back so badly..”

“Shut up.”

You both rode off back to the castle and made it just in time. You opened the doors to see Jaehyun's family awaiting his arrival at the dinner table. You shyly left go to the kitchen to get the water pitcher while Jaehyun sat down at the table. You were overhearing the conversation Jaehyun had with his mother.

“Jaehyun, you are eighteen..”

“Mother, I am not having this conversation again.”

“You are to be married to one to the prospects me and your father have selected, and that’s final. It’s tradition Jaehyun, your father did it, your grandfather did it, your great-grandfather did it, your-“

“I GET IT.”

You looked at Jaehyun as he felt frustrated, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you felt terrible. A little part of you also felt hurt, you knew this day was coming, but you wished that in the realm of possibility, that Jaehyun would be allowed to date you. You both felt a connection, and it had only grown from there. But you both had just been flirty with each other in the meantime. Jaehyun looked at you feeling guilty, that one day he’d have to be married to someone he didn’t love. You smiled at him at reassurance, and you left to go into the kitchen. After dinner, you helped Jaehyun to another bath and got him prepared for bed. You had some conversation while putting on his clothes, Jaehyun seemed tense and felt that he needed to vent a little.

“Can you believe this?”

“Believe what?”

“My stupid mother, making me marry someone I don’t even know.”

“It’s your family tradition.”

“How can you say that?”

“…”

“Fine, how would you feel about marrying some snobby rich man, who maybe didn’t even love you.”

“If it made my mother happy, I would.”

“Well, your mother and my mother are different, at least your mom isn’t a pushover.”

“You’ve known this had to happen sometime after you turned eighteen. This shouldn’t have been a shock to you, Jae.”

“Yeah, but all of these girls are spoiled, and I don’t even know if they will like me.”

“You are a very kind-hearted, caring, considerate, and loving guy. If she doesn’t love you, it’s her loss.”

“Thank you, y/n.”

“Do you know when you’ll meet them?”

“The midnight ball.”

“O-oh…are we…not going to match this year?”

“NO, we are going to match, that’s OUR tradition, and that will not be broken until I get married.”

You chuckled, “alright,, my stubborn prince, it’s late, and you have a big day tomorrow.”

“What am I even doing?”

“Planning for the midnight ball, outfit fittings, food tasting, and french practice.”

“Ughhhh, why can’t I just stay in bed.”

“You’re a prince. Its what you do, goodnight Jae.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You blew out his nightstand candle and tucked him into bed. You walked into your room and began to change into your nightgown. You tucked yourself into bed and couldn’t fall asleep. The underlying idea kept popping into your head of Jaehyun, getting married to someone else. You both loved each other, and you wouldn’t bear to see him get married to another woman. You tossed and turned but couldn’t sleep. You walked out of your room quietly and went downstairs to have a warm glass of milk. But when you entered the kitchen, you also found Jaehyun making himself some warm milk.

“Can’t sleep?

“Y-yeah.”

“Here, I’ll make more.”

You sat as you watched Jaehyun heat up more warm milk for himself using the fireplace. You both drank in silence.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know…just thinking about getting married still worries me, what about you.”

“I just feel a little sad that you are getting married, we are growing up.”

Then there was silence again

“Jae?”

“Did you ever like someone who you wished you could get married to? Or did you ever like someone?”

“…yeah”

“O-oh”

“She is beautiful on the inside, and outside, I feel like I could trust my life with her.” “Does she make you happy?”

“Very happy.”

“Who is sh-“

As you were about to continue, Jaehyun’s lips were a centimeter away from yours, and your eyes connected with his deep brown irises. You were red and felt that you could faint. Jaehyun grabbed your cheek and leaned in to kiss you on your lips. His lips felt soft and warm against yours, and he pulled away to see you shyly fall into his chest. You laughed a little, and Jaehyun couldn’t help but smile. However, your eyes started to become glossy, realizing what you had just done. You let the prince kiss you! A maid! Not even meant to be seen touching him! You immediately pulled away from Jaehyun.

“Jae…”

“What is it, my daisy?”

“This is wrong…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“You don’t f-feel t-t-the same w-way?”

“No! I do feel the same way it's just-“

“Just what?”

“You’re a prince Jae, I’m just a maid, even if we did love each other, there is no way we could ever truly be able to love.”

Your eyes started to form tears and fell down your face. But your face was blank, and tears were just falling, with no sobbing or choking up.

“Oh, y/n...”

Jaehyun embraced you and rubbed your back while you held Jaehyun crying into his shoulders.

“We can keep this a secret, yeah?”

“…”

“It’s okay if you want us to stay friends. It's your decision, my love.”

“What do we do if someone finds out? Or what will we ever get to do together? I’m just- so confused, frustrated, and scared, Jae.”

“I promise I will protect you from anything until I stop loving you, and I will never do anything that will hurt you in any way. I swear on my heart.”

“…alright…we can flirt in secret…and date…I guess…”

“YE-“

“BUT nothing beyond that I don’t want you to get carried away,” You said as you winked

Jaehyun blushed and then kissed you on the cheek

“You’re such a cheeky little one, aren’t you?”

You laughed as you fell into his chest, hugging him. You both eventually walked back to your respected rooms and fell asleep in bliss and happiness.

The next morning you woke up and got ready and walked into Jaehyun’s room to wake him up. As you were about to remove his covers, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him.

“mmh…sleep with me…”

“You were always a sleepy head Jae.”

You played with his hair as you laid on his chest, and he kissed your forehead as you blushed. You eventually convinced Jaehyun to get up and dragged him out of bed. Jaehyun got dressed, while you were putting his pajamas in the laundry basket to wash. While you bent over, Jaehyun whistled at you, which made you slap him in the arm playfully.

“What? y/n, I’m not wrong.”

“You are so gross Jae, why did I have to fall in love with a dork like you.”

“Hey! But I’m a cute dork, YOUR cute dork.”

You laughed as you kissed his cheek

“Okay, now its time for you to go plan for the midnight ball.”

“But what’s the point in going if you aren’t going to be there,” he said pouting

Jaehyun kissed your hand before walking out to attend his duties

“Till I see you again, Mea Bella, te amo.”

You were always flustered when Jaehyun spoke to you in Latin, finding it to be charming and impressive. You sighed in bliss as you skipped to go do the laundry happier than anyone in the castle.

Follow me for updates and to follow the series! also, dm me your thoughts I would love to know 🥺

~ n ✧*:･ﾟ

[naly1109]

Your Lovely Wicked Soul

ASummary: Witch au, Reader X Bang Chan feat. Stray Kids (Narrator's POV)

Summary: Y/N is well known and beloved amongst the people of her home village. Being a powerful Witch, she helps the people using her Gifts to increase crops, heal the sick, and protect the townsfolk and other favors. When her Grandfather sends her away to save her from the misfortune of becoming the awful King’s bride, he sends her across worlds into the hands of a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the tyrant King.

~Chapter 2~

After what felt like hours of the guys trying to choose a place to order from and then picking what each member wanted to eat, then deciding who was going to go get it, Chan, Changbin, and Minho had finally come back with the greatly anticipated food. Y/N has never, in her whole life, seen or smelled food like this. She always wanted to travel to try the different foods around the world, but she always took on more responsibilities in the village that kept her there.

“Looks delicious, right Noona?” Felix says when he sees how Y/N is eyeing the grilled barbeque pork. Y/N gives him a sheepish smile as he puts some on a small plate and hands it to her, along with a set of metal chopsticks.

Y/N looks at the two sticks that were handed to her with confusion and looks up at the guys, all of them using the odd metal sticks to eat the food displayed in front of them. She attempts to copy the movement of the boys to eat the food Felix served to her. When the pork slips from between the chopstick for a third time, Y/N grunts in frustration and gives up.

“It's easy once you get the hang of it. Here. Let me show you.” Hyunjin says as he reaches for Y/N’s chopsticks to show her how to hold them. Y/N attempts again and fails. She grips the chopsticks with both hands in frustration. Hyunjin laughs and offers to try showing her again.

“No. I got it.” Y/N says as she runs her hands over the sticks, casting a Spell to turn the metal chopsticks into utensils she knows how to use. The metal begins to morph and bend, lightly groaning from being bent out of their original shape. Once she finishes, she has what resembles a three pronged fork. Y/N smiles at herself and then begins eating, ignoring the looks of the men looking at her in amazement.

“That will never get old.” Jisung says with rice shoved into his cheeks. He quickly swallows and asks, “So can everyone where you’re from do magic?”

There’s that word again. “Magic?” Y/N asks the boy.

“You know. What you do. With the hand waving and the lights and stuff?” Jisung explains, waving his arms around in an attempt to mimic Y/N’s movements from earlier.

“I don’t know what ‘magic’ is, but I don’t do it. We have Gifts that allow us to cast Spells.” Y/N clarifies. “And no. Only a small population of the people from my home has a Gift.”

Changbin is next to speak out, “So how does it work? Your Gifts? Can everyone do the same things? Is there a school like in ‘Harry Potter’ you have to attend to learn Spells?”

Y/N inhales, trying to keep up with the questions coming from Changbin. “Not everyone’s gifts are the same. Every Witch is born with a Gift that reveals itself on their first birthday. A Witch’s Gift can fall under many different types. There are four main types of categories, and many subtypes that branch from those four main types.”

“Let me guess. Are those four main types earth, water, fire, and air?” Felix laughs at his own joke.

Y/N raises a delicate eyebrow at him and answers, “No. The four main types of Gifts are Seer, Prosperer, Alchemyst, and Natures. So a Witch’s Gift will always be a subtype of one of these four. So a Witch with a Seer Gift may have Foresight or Mindeye. Prosper Gifted Witches can bring upon prosperity for a many number of things from wealth, to fertility, even with hunting game. Natures Gifted Witches may have the capability to speak to animals or make plants grow or control weather within a specific area. Alchemyst Gifts are not as common as the other three. Alchemyst Gifts can pretty much make an object with another object, much like I did with your odd metal sticks.”

“So you’re an Alchemyst Gifted Witch then?” Jeongin asks.

Y/N shakes her head at his question. “I am a Natures Gifted Witch. All Witches have the capability to use Spells from other Gift types, though they won't be as strong as when casted by a Witch possessing a Gift from that type. Some can also use a combination of Gifts to complete Spells. For example, when I immobilized all of you by levitating you in the air, I was using a combination of Natures Gift and Alchemyst Gift Spells. Not very many Witches can use a combination of Gifts to cast Spells. Only a few amongst our kind can.”

“So then that makes you an impressive Witch.” Felix states, feeling a little pride that his newest friend’s accomplishments.

Y/N nods her head. “Yes it does. I am the youngest Witch to have ever mastered 50 or more Gift combination Spells, having accomplished the feat when I was only 14 years old.” Y/N states feeling renewed pride for herself. “Most Witches who have mastered that many Gift combination Spells don't do so until they are well into their thirties.”

"How did you manage to learn so much so young? Did you not have a life?" Hyunjin asks, then regrets his words when Y/N's face falls.

"My Grandfather made me train really hard my whole life. He always told me I would one day be the greatest Witch, one who will bring upon a massive change to the world.” Y/N explains, tearing up as she recalls things about her Grandfather, like how he smelled, the way he talked, the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled, and his laugh, she missed the sound of his laugh the most. Stars! Y/N would give anything to have her Gaba here with her now. “Gaba would have loved to have met you all.” a few tears gently falling down her cheeks and ehw quickly wipes them away. “He was killed right before I was pulled through that Spell hole.” Silence fills the room as the atmosphere grows heavy.

“What about your parents?” Chan asks, finally speaking up after watching everyone else participate in the conversation for a while. Y/N looks at him for the length of time it takes him to take a breath.

Y/N wipes away a few more tears that managed to fall. “They died on my first birthday. So I didn’t get the chance to really know them.” Y/N states matter-of-factly, looking down at the barbequed pork on her plate.

“I’m sorry.” Chan says quietly to her.

“Why? You are not the cause of their fate.” She responds, not understanding why he should feel apologetic at all.

Chan shakes his head with a small smile. “It’s another way of saying my condolences. A way to show that I sympathize with you.”

Y/N doesn’t know why, but her heart swells at his words. She still can’t look at him for too long, for he brings back the memories of Gaba’s death, but she feels an odd attachment to him. She feels drawn to him, as though he is not a stranger, but a lost friend that she’s been searching for unknowingly.

“Oh. Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” She says, finally locking eyes with Chan for longer than just a moment. They both feel a force pulling them towards each other, almost like metal to magnet. Then Y/N forces herself to look away. “Gaba told me a lot about them. I’m sure I would have been proud to be their daughter. They were powerful, well known Witches. They worked in the Witch Society under the rule of the previous King, back when it was honorable to be a Member of the Society. Now they’re just a bunch of cowards who do the crooked King’s bidding, hurting the people, the heart, of the Kingdom.”

“You feel really strongly about this Witches Social and their King, don’t you?” Felix asks with rice stuck to his chin, and Changbin reaches over to clean it off, “Thank you, Hyung.”

“Witch Society. And yes. That is my home, my people. I have to get back and do something about the current order of things before Talmas destroys our home.” Y/N states with new found determination. As soon as she is alone, she plans to study the Grimoire Gaba entrusted to her in hopes of finding the Spell to send her back.

“The people sure are lucky to have you to save them.” Jeongin says with a smile.

“So… about your eyes.” Jisung asks with burning curiosity, “Do all Witches have the same eyes?”

“No. Mine are the only eyes to have this odd color. Gaba told me that, when I was born, many Witches came to see me, even the King made it to see me while my mother recovered. The occasion made all the more eventful because both my parents were Witches, which is rare.” She pauses to take a drink of the banana’s milk Jisung served her, she doesn't know how one milks a banana, but she is glad for whoever discovered it. “Witches do have different colored eyes from regular humans. Humans have regular brown or blue eyes, but Witches’ eye colors come in different shades of blues, reds, greens, violets, pinks, and so on. And a Witch’s eye color will almost always be a similar shade of color that the Witch parent has.”

“Why do you say it's rare that both your parents are Witches?” Jisung probes further.

“Male Witches are a rarity, and when they marry a female Witch, they will always have a girl. So many choose to marry a human to increase their chances of a son, and they are oftentimes non-Gifted. My paternal grandmother was human. Gaba bought her a whole farm when she gave birth to my father, then proceeded to buy her several horses when he realized his son was a Witch. My Grandmother made him return all of the horses the next day!” Y/N softly giggles as she remembers Gaba’s face each time he told the story to her. He was upset that she didn’t want to keep the horses.

Chan finds himself mesmerized by the sound of Y/N’s laugh. It sounds like a melody being written just for him and he wants to hear more of it. And the sight of her lit up face makes a smile spread across his face. He thinks it would be extremely rewarding to be the one to make her laugh, and he hopes that, one day soon, he can hear her truly laugh.

“Do all of the people of this world have eyes like Obsidian stone?” Y/N asks, noticing the guys all have very similar dark eyes as Chan. “I have never seen eyes that dark in color.”

“Here in our country, the majority of people do have dark eyes similar to our own.” Seungmin answers. “But we are just a country in this big world. There are many different types of people in the world with different eye colors. None like from your world, but different colors of brown, blue and green are the most common, and sometimes a combination of those colors.”

Y/N ponders that response for a moment while she chews on her pork and rice grains. “That’s very interesting.” she states simply.

~

After everyone finishes eating, they start moving Seungmin’s and Felix’s things from their room and into the room with the spare beds. Everyone talks and jokes amicably while making games out of moving the stuff from one room to the other to make the task more fun and pass more quickly. Y/N finds herself enjoying passing time with the boys as they play and tease each other, while Chan finds himself staring at Y/N each time she giggles or speaks. Once they finish moving everything, they all sprawl out in the living room.

"There you go, Y/N. Now you have a place to sleep and keep your stuff." Seungmin says.

"Um, Seungmin. Y/N doesn't have anything. Or did you forget that she came to us unexpectedly from another world through a hole in our ceiling?" Hyunjin says in a slight teasing tone to the younger man.

"We can go shopping tomorrow for some of the necessities for her. Or did you forget that she has wants and needs just like any other human?" Seungmin counters. "Or non-human." He adds as an afterthought.

Y/N speaks out before the boys get too into their debate. “I have some items I brought from home here in my Cloak.” Y/N walks over to where she had placed her Cloak and picks it up, noticing the food stains. She gently shakes it out, all the stains on it from the first dinner disappearing off her Cloak the way they had the floor and sofa. Then she lays it down on the floor and waves her hands over it to activate the Storage Spell of the Cloak.

Once again, the boys all gather to watch in astonishment at what the Witch from a foreign world can do as she begins to pull things out of her Cloak, starting with Lessio’s Grimoire. The Cloak looks normal, but when Y/N puts her hand to it, it goes through and she pulls out another item from the unknown space of the Cloak. 

“So, whatcha got there, Y/N?” Felix asks, not recognizing some of the items.

Y/N begins to hold up items and explains, “These are some herbs that I had planned to use to make medicine for Old Man Jowsin’s back. This is an ointment I made to help disinfect and decrease the healing time of any abrasions.” She holds up a small crystal jar full of light blue paste. She continues to pull out a sketch pad, several pencils, a brush, and a hat. “A change of clothes because you never know what may happen.” she says pulling out lady pants and a blouse.

“Can’t you just make new clothes out of thin air if something happens?” Minho asks.

“I could, but using Spells for everything gets exhausting. It's nice to do things like a normal human too.” She defends.

“But normal humans don’t have capes with Spells cast on them to hold their stuff.” he counters.

Y/N is miffed at Minho’s statement. ‘Do humans here really not have any Gifts or other powers?’ she thinks as she looks around. “You must have your own capabilities if you are able to get people into these compact boxes. Or to have your home illuminated so late at night without the use of flame.” she points out.

“Late?” Chan says, looking at the time. His eyes go wide when he sees that it is nearly 2AM. “Guys, we have to be up in a few hours to make it in time for our shoot at nine.” he informs the group. Now that everyone is aware of the time, they start to feel the exhaustion from the last several hours settle into their bodies. “How about we continue our conversation with Y/N after we all get some sleep, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, some yawns coming from a few of the boys. They all start to head to their rooms, and Chan heads to the linen closet to get some fresh blankets for Y/N.

“Here. Some fresh linen so you can change out Seungmin’s used ones.” he hands her the bundle of blankets.

“Why so many bed cloths?” she asks, looking at the blankets in awe. She’s never seen blankets dyed with so many intricate designs in it.

“Bed cloths.” Chan repeats, finding her terminology cute. “Let me help you get it set up.” he grabs the blankets from her and leads her to the room. Once inside, he puts the blankets down on the desk and starts to remove the blankets from the bottom bunk. Y/N watches him as he is removing the blankets, his arms bare and on display, showing his veins and how his muscles move under his fair skin. Y/N doesn’t realize she’s staring until Chan stands and asks her to hand him the blankets.

It takes Y/N a quick moment to register what he was asking for, “Oh.” she blinks and turns to grab the blankets and hand them to Chan. She silently finishes watching him put the fresh blankets on the bed. “Thank you for your help.” she says when he stands, not looking at him.

An audible sigh leaves Chan’s lips. “Why don’t you look at me, Y/N? When you do, you turn away as fast as possible.” he questions her. “Is it because I look like your King?” He takes her silence as confirmation. “You know I’m not him, right?” he asks her.

“Of course I know you are not him.” Y/N softly answers. “But it is hard to look at you because you bear resemblance to the man who is responsible for my Grandfather’s death. And although I don’t blame you, I can’t help but see his face adorned with a smirk as he ordered his guard to shoot Gaba down.” Y/N swallows hard, fighting back the tears that, once again, threatened to fall. “I also blame myself for not being strong enough to break Gaba’s Spell to save him.” Tears are now free falling off her cheeks as she cries in grief for her Grandfather for the first time.

Chan can’t help but embrace her small, trembling form as she sobs into his chest, tears staining his sleeveless tee-shirt. He stands there with Y/N for several minutes while she cries, offering soft, comforting words here and there. When Y/N finally calms down, Chan releases her but keeps his hands on her shoulders.

“I don’t know everything that happened, but according to your Cat, your Grandfather did what he thought was right for you, to protect you. How do you know that awful King wouldn’t have killed your Grandfather anyway? Or kept him locked up to keep you in line? Maybe your Grandfather knew there would be no other option but to send you here. So you shouldn’t blame yourself, because I would like to believe that he doesn’t.”

At his words, Y/N eyes move up from Chan’s chest to his face and stay there. “Thank you.” she says, then huffs at herself. “I sure am thanking you a lot this day, am I?”

“Hey, anytime.” Chan says, giving Y/N a toothy smile. Y/N is taken aback by how attractive his smile is, and warm in comparison to the King. She thinks she would like to see that smile more often. “And I will make it so you can look at me without seeing or comparing me to your King” Chan promises, as though he had just read Y/N’s mind.

“He is not my King.” is all Y/N can say as her heart flutters in her chest at his promise, and Chan gives her another small smile as they say their goodnights.

Chan walks into the room he shares with Minho, who is still awake. “Did you kiss her?” he asks, startling Chan.

“AH! Wha-! No! It’s not like that. I don’t even know her.” Chan answers, feeling flustered under the younger man’s scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh-huh.” Minho ignores the older’s question, “I saw the way you were looking at her practically the whole night. At one point, I thought you would devour her right there in front of everyone.”

Chan flushed at Minho’s words. “Hey! I already said it’s not like that!” Throwing himself face down onto his bed. He rolls over to face Minho, “I mean, yeah, she’s beautiful, beyond stunning actually, but I don’t know her like that. Besides, she can’t even look at me fully.” Chan says. He thinks about how he had embraced her back in the other room. It wasn’t romantic, but it made Chan feel like he was complete, like she was the missing piece he didn’t know he needed. He still couldn’t explain it but the strange, magnetic pull he feels towards her when he is around her makes him smile.

“Well, that doesn’t stop you from thinking your lustful thoughts though, does it?” Minho says as he situates himself into bed for the night. “What were you doing in there with her that took so long if you weren’t locking lips?”

The older man throws a pillow at the younger man. “I was comforting her, pervert. She’s upset about losing her Grandfather and home all in one day, and she finally allowed it all out while I was in there.”

Minho is silent for a moment. “But you do like her. Right?”

Chan sighs, he knows Minho won’t let it go until he gets an answer. “I could definitely see why anyone would like her, but it's too soon to tell if I like her like that or not. I’m tired so goodnight.” Chan says, shutting down the conversation for the night.

~

Y/N is finishing setting up the personal items she had in her Cloak, taking a moment to look into the embroidered, crystal mirror her Grandfather gave her Grandmother as a marriage proposal gift. The mirror is her most prized possession, being the only heirloom she carried with her in the Cloak.

Y/N is feeling tired, but fights sleep. She wants to start looking into how to get home as soon as possible. She opens Lessio’s Grimoire and an envelope slips out from under the cover and glides to the floor without her notice.

After almost an hour of looking through the seemingly never ending pages and not finding anything, Y/N starts to feel her eyes heavy from sleep. Nolai meows at her, an indication that he thinks she should go to bed.

“So now you want to stop using your voice to reprimand me.” She says to Nolai, recalling how he shouted at her and told her she was being ridiculous. “I know I have to go to bed, Nolai, but I need to figure out how to get us home. I don’t feel comfortable here in this world.”

“Are you sure it’s the world you’re uncomfortable with?” Nolai asks, his voice laced with implications. “Or is it the handsome stranger with the familiar face?”

Y/N turns abruptly in her seat to look at the Cat Dhornna with an astonished look. “Can you go back to not talking?” she says, feeling herself grow uneasy at the truth of the Cat’s words. “You go to bed if you’re tired.”

“I can feel what you feel, Y/N. I know you hate the King, but you also feel yourself drawn to Chan.” Y/N tries to ignore him as he continues to speak. “I also noticed how he looked at you. Like he would move mountain rock for you.”

Y/N sighs and looks at her annoying Cat, trying to ignore the light jumps her heart was doing at the thought. ‘What’s wrong with me? I don’t even know him.’ she thinks to herself. She recalls the embrace she shared with him while he comforted her. It was by no means romantic, but it made her feel complete, like he was the missing constellation to her Star filled night.

“If I go to bed, will you stop talking?” Y/N asks Nolai.

“Maybe. Or maybe I might continue because I’m right.” he says, his usual gleam in his eyes.

Rolls her eyes at the Cat and gets up to go to bed. As she walks towards the bed, her foot slips on the carpet. She looks down to see she’s stepping on the envelope that wasn’t there before, and lifts her foot to pick it up.

Seeing that her name is written in her Grandfather’s handwriting on the envelope, she takes it to the bed with her to read it, tears already brimming her eyes for the fourth time today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m so sorry I am posting a day late, with 4th of July and my brother’s birthday, it has been a hectic weekend. I am having so much fun writing this, and I hope you are all having fun reading! I promise to keep posting every Saturday! LYASM! And thank you!

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I always think of you as Kristin Scott Thomas’ character Fiona in Four Weddings and a Funeral as a beautiful woman who is scarily clever and classy. So with my upcoming wedding (next year!) and especially wedding music I thought of you. I really would appreciate your advice on Mendelssohn or Wagner as they seem to be the traditional choices of music to play at a traditional church wedding. My fiancé isn’t bothered what music we play but I can’t decide. Please do help as I value your unvarnished truth.

Thank you for the flattering words which while well intentioned are nevertheless entirely misplaced.

Swiftly moving on, a sincere congratulations on your forthcoming wedding. I can only imagine how stressful it must be running around like a headless chicken trying to desperately organise everything. And desperate you certainly must be - perhaps even certifiably insane -  if you’re turning to me on Tumblr for advice!

I’m not married....yet ( oops! better get that caveat in before I am chastised by those who really know me)  but I am a wedding veteran - some would even say, a jaded one (thank you, mummy).

Every season there is a string of wedding invitations that I can’t turn down and I feel obligated to attend. While great fun, one wedding starts to blur into another especially when the champagne starts to copiously flow. I have my own thoughts on the good, the bad, and the tacky about wedding etiquette but I don’t want to disappear down that rabbit hole. Instead let’s talk about Mendelssohn and Wagner.

Both music pieces have traditionally struck a chord (pardon the pun) and have become a staple of traditional weddings since time immemorial.

Mendelssohn's ‘Wedding March’ was originally composed in 1842. He got there first.

Wagner's ‘Bridal Chorus’ came later in 1848. The ‘Bridal Chorus’ became a popularised piece to play at weddings around Europe after it was most memorably used as the processional at the wedding of Victoria, the Princess Royal to Prince Frederick William of Prussia in 1858. Nowadays - certainly in Britain and the US -  it is generally known as "Here Comes the Bride”.

I suppose the straight forward answer is that it doesn’t have to be Wagner vs. Mendelssohn. Why not both?  Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus’ can be used for the entrance processional of the bride walking down the aisle and the Mendelssohn ‘Wedding March’ for the recessional walk out of the church.

But you did say you wanted my ‘unvarnished truth’ so allow me the small luxury of an arm chair rant from the Coronavirus self-isolation of my Paris apartment. 

Of the two I would definitely ditch the Wagner piece. Please don’t misunderstood me. I am a huge fan of Wagner’s music - like any true Wagnerian I have taken more than one pilgrimage to Beyreuth - but in this case playing Wagner’s music would show a frightful ignorance of the meaning behind the ‘Bridal Chorus’ piece.  

I don’t know why more people haven’t picked up on this but I’ve always found it a terribly odd piece to play at a wedding especially as it originates from Wagner’s masterful opera, Lohengrin.

Wagner came upon the opera's inspiration around 1845 when he took interest in the legend of the Holy Grail through the poems of Wolfram von Eschenbach and the anonymous epic of Lohengrin. Composed by 1848, Lohengrin features "Bridal Chorus" as the prelude to a very short-lived, doomed marriage between Elsa and Lohengrin.

The famous ‘Bridal Chorus’ is lustily sung by women of the bridal party serenading Elsa to the bridal suite after the wedding in Act III. Elsa is not allowed to know her true knight’s true name and identity. But this is a romantic German opera and so of course Lohengrin is found out with dire consequences for all.  A sad Lohengrin ends up revealing that  he is in fact a knight of the Grail and son of King Parsifal, sent to protect an unjustly accused woman. The laws of the Holy Grail say that Knights of the Grail must remain anonymous. If their identity is revealed, they must return home. Lohengrin is lead back to the castle of the Holy Grail. Elsa is grief stricken at being left behind.  Poor Elsa (naturally) collapses and dies with a broken heart.

Charming.

To say it’s not the happiest of allusions of looking forward to a long life of wedded bliss would be an understatement.

However my objections against Wagner’s ‘Bridal Chorus’ goes beyond this. For one thing I find it rather too sombre - Oh dear God! Is marriage really like this?!

My main ire is that it overly used and therefore boring to listen to. And when one is bored the mind wanders.

In my case, without sounding malicious, my mind just drifts to whispering mischievous lyrics under my breath that go like, “here comes the bride, big fat and wide, here comes the groom, skinny as a broom.” Try as I might I can never get those words out of my silly mind whenever I hear the organ music playing “Here come’s the bride.” Not my finest hour.

Now Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ is different beast entirely. Beast being the operative word as we are dealing with Pagan deities.

Typically used in church wedding recessionals, the ‘Wedding March’ piece has sparked controversy due to its literary origins. The Prussian monarch Friedrich Wilhelm IV commissioned Mendelssohn to compose incidental music for many pieces that were based upon Greek mythology and tragedy in order to revive the genre of literature and performance. Among his commissions, in 1843 Mendelssohn composed a setting for William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream; the setting comprises twelve musical numbers and a finale. The plot of Shakespeare's play focuses on a pagan god and goddess and is filled with fairies, magic, and fantasy. Due to the piece's pagan, fantastic inspirations, some puritanical leaders and musicians - particularly in Roman Catholic churches - have found the piece to be inappropriate for a Christian religious ceremony. In its defence at least Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream was a comedy with a happy ending.

If you’re feeling traditional rather than puritanical then the joyous Mendelssohn ‘Wedding March’ might still be a great option either as a processional or recessional.

If you’re looking for options outside of either Wagner and Mendelssohn then it’s really a matter of exercising good taste alongside what suits the personal tone of your wedding.

Off the top of my head I keep coming back to Johann Sebastian Bach.

Bach’s many cantatas and fugues seem to tick all the boxes. In particular there is Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (derived from the cantata Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben, "Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life”). There is also the Toccata and Fugue in D minor ‘Dorian’ BWV 538 and the Toccata and Fugue in F Major, BWV 540.  Arioso in A flat for solo piano from Cantata No. 156 "Ich steh`mit einem Fuss im Grabe is softly elegant. A particular favourite piece of mine is Weichet nur, betrübte Schatten, BWV 202, the ‘Wedding Cantata’. Of course many would point out that Bach’s Ave Maria would be perfect for a processional but I would think twice about that. As beautiful as the piece is it is about the Virgin Mary after all and you may invite unwanted speculation from your guests if you are (cough) chaste.

Trumpet Tune in D by Jeremiah Clarke is a little more festive. Or consider his more famous Trumpet Voluntary ‘The Prince of Denmark's March’.

Charles-Marie Widor  was a fine composer and his Toccata (from Symphony for Organ No. 5) is spiritually intense for traditional organ music.

Eugène Gigout's famous Grand Chœur Dialogué might appeal to you as well.

G.F. Handel’s Water Music Suite - Air has a graceful and calming tone. The Arrival of The Queen of Sheba (Solomon) HWV 67 is upbeat and was made for a processional.

Beethoven’s Für Elise is perfect to calm last minute panic attacks before you go up the aisle.

And how can one forget Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?

The Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major, K. 525 or more commonly known as Eine kleine Nachtmusik KV. 525 - II. Romanze: Andante is a beautiful melody familiar to many and sets a soothing tone. Ave verum corpus, K.618 is profoundly spiritual and lifts your hearts up to the angels. ‘Alleluia’ from ‘Exsultate, jubilate’ is wonderful if you can get your hands on a competent soprano. If you are feeling more adventurous then the Spanish Wedding March from The Marriage of Figaro which might be to your taste. 

Elgar’s Salut d'Amour, Op. 12 is soft, inviting and makes one feel you’re in some 19th Century romance novel set at court.

Elgar finished the piece in July 1888, when he was romantically involved with Caroline Alice Roberts, and he called it Liebesgruss ('Love's Greeting') because of Miss Roberts' fluency in German. When he returned home to London on 22 September from a holiday at the house of his friend Dr. Charles Buck, in Settle, he presented it to her as an engagement present. The dedication was in French: à Carice. 'Carice' was a combination of his wife's names Caroline Alice, and was the name to be given to their daughter born two years later.

Edvard Grieg’s Wedding Day at Troldhauen, Op. 65, no. 6 is magnificently playful.

Jean-Joseph Mouret’s Rondeau from Sinfonie de Fanfares is a beautiful Baroque piece. What’s a wedding without trumpets that could be heard all the way into the heavens?

Gluck’s Dance of the Blessed Spirits from his Orfeo et Euridice can be an elegant choice to do a recessional. Perfect for sensitive souls.

Gabriel Fauré’s Pavane, Op. 50 is sublime. I can never get tired of listening to it. Would make a worthy piece as a processional.

I would also throw into the mix Gaetano Donizetti’s ‘Una furtiva lagrima’ (A furtive tear) is the romanza from Act II of his delightful opera L'elisir d'amore.

It is sung by Nemorino (a tenor) when it appears that the love potion he bought to win the heart of his dream lady, Adina, works. Nemorino is in love with Adina, but she is not interested in a relationship with an innocent, rustic man. To win her heart, Nemorino buys a love potion with all the money he has in his pocket. That love potion is actually a cheap red wine sold by a traveling quack doctor, but when he sees Adina weeping, he knows that she has fallen in love with him, and he is sure that the "elixir" has worked. It may not fit your idea of a processional but I would try and use it some where in your wedding - perhaps at the reception.

I feel guilty about trashing on Wagner and Mendelssohn so I will leave you with two final thoughts. Reconsider Wagner’s opera Lohengrin. Forget the Bridal Chorus but instead listen to the chorus ‘Gesegnet soll sie schreiten’ in Act II. The various horns give this chorus a dreamlike quality and you feel like you are floating on air. Mendelssohn’s On Wings of Song is a powerful and poignant piano piece and quite suitable to play as your guests away your arrival in church.

I am sure there are other great classical music pieces that I have neglected to mention but others reading this might give their thoughts in the comments below.

If knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, then wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. So give careful and considered thought to what music you throw together into the mix as your church wedding processional and recessional.

Congratulations again and I hope it’s a special day for both of you and your families and friends.

Thanks for your question.

[ambidextrousarcher]

Sarcastic StarBharat Reviews: Episode 17: In which Kunti gets an unwanted child

I DISTINCTLY remember posting this and the next episode on my blog, but the posts have gone AWOL, so reposting, so that I can make the links on my List page for this series work. 

Everything is under the cut. I’m not tagging anyone, because this is a repost.

Potential triggers ahead, if you’re a Karn fan, so please be careful.

The episode begins at the scene the last one ended at, ie: Surya making an entry and promising a bright and famous son to Kunti. (He was famous, sure, but bright? Huh? Crap, #glitterwashalert) He says that he cannot stop the boon. Nope, canon fail #28. Surya could stop it, he didn’t want to, fearing ridicule from the Gods. Kunti did not want a baby, I’m not sure she knew canonically that the boon involves a baby beforehand, but she DID NOT want one. (Please note that here, Surya is much, much worse than the Gods that come in the future, who do what they do with her CONSENT. Yes, that includes Indra. Next time y’all want to lambast Arjun like ‘he’s Indra’s son’, please remember this part, which is actually canon. Kunti begs Surya to let her go. He doesn’t. The conclusion is obvious regarding Mr. Glitterwash.) Kunti pleads to be let go. (Please remember that Kunti is a CHILD.) She says that her father, her family are innocent. He promises her that she will be a virgin once more after the baby is born. As if that magically makes everything alright. (Consent issues, people. Major consent issues, issues that are never addressed, because y’all just want to roast Arjun.) She’s literally crying when Surya 3D-prints the baby onto her. Canon fail #29: Kunti’s pregnancies are all natural, according to canon.

Scene cuts to Kunti cradling a baby in her hands, singing the song Suryadev Sogaye… (It’s a beautiful song, really, catches Kunti’s emotions really well, but…sigh.) She’s packing a basket with lotuses, IDK what for. It’s canon that she packed it with jewels. She lets the basket with the baby float away. “Forgive me, my son,” she says tearfully. “I cannot make my father bear the fruit of my sins…” She asks Surya to protect his son, at which the Kavach-Kundal make their appearance. Canon fail #30. Kunti canonically demands the Kavach-Kundal before she agrees to sleep with Surya for the sake of her father and her people. Kunti is the reason he gets that, not Surya’s divine mercy or something like that. “Do not worry about my son, Kunti, he has my protection,” says Surya. Canon fail #31. Surya does nothing of that sort. Kunti is the one who canonically keeps tabs on Karna. Surya names him Karna. Canon fail #32. Karna is an epithet he gets after he exchanges the Kavach-Kundal from Indra for Vasavi Shakti. It is not donation borne out of generosity, in spite of his Asur vow, it is an exchange. No more.

His original name is Vasusen. But this can be pardoned, as he is always referred to in the epic as Karna. (This guy has just been born, and he already has canon fails galore.)

Kunti pushes the basket away and collapses in tears. “Karn!” she yells at the end. “Forget the past, Princess,” says Priyamvadha, her friend. “How can I forget? He is definitely alive somewhere, he is not my past until he lives.” “It is better to keep this a secret, Princess” “From whom? My would be-husband? Betrayal cannot be the basis of a marriage,” “But Princess,” says Priyamvadha, “who will marry you after he comes to know of this?” “Someone would be there,” says Kunti. “Someone who will not consider my mistake my identity, someone who will accept me with my truth…” The camera pans away from Kunti.

Scene switches to Hastina. “Pranipaat Bhabhishree,” says Honey Boy to Ms. Always Patnidharma. “Enter, Maharaj,” “Have I disturbed you?” She shakes her head. “I came here to ask of your blessings before leaving for Kuntibhoj,” “Always remain victorious, Maharaj, may your fame reach all over the world,” “Can you not call me Pandu?” Aw, Honey Boy, you’re actually sweet sometimes. “Calling a king by name is offence, Maharaj,” “But it hurts if you call me that! I feel guilty. This throne belonged to elder brother and his…” “No! If the throne was his, he would have gotten it. If he has not gotten it, it means that it is yours. You just need to become worthy of it.” “You came here to become the Queen, and…” “No, I came here to become your elder brother’s wife, and I am that. If I had come to become the Queen, I’d have married the throne,” She laughs. Ah, such a sweet scene. Shame it’s an extension of a canon fail.

“How can you be so generous?” “Because a sister-in-law is in the place of a mother, isn’t she? And a mother has only one wish. That her child should be happy, that he should get everything. I feel like I’ve gotten the boon of not 100 but 102 sons.” “Promise me, Bhabhishree, that you will call me Maharaj only when I am on the throne. Otherwise, consider me your son and call me by my name.” “Then I’ll call your wife by her name, too! Now, go to Kuntibhoj and bring my sister-in-law. I’ve never seen you, but I can say that any beauty in this world will not be able to refuse you.” “I have your blessings, so I am confident, but I don’t begin anything without the blessings of Jyeshth Bhraata.” Aaah. Such syrupy sweetness. I can’t stomach this. (I actually couldn’t, I closed the episode and came back two days later). “These blessings are from his side too, Pandu. His heart is still warring with itself, but he still loves you as much as he did before.” Did he ever love Honey Boy in this version? I kind of doubt it. “I have faith, Bhabhi. And my own devotion has not lessened. I promise you that I and my wife will always serve you and Jyeshth.” He falls at her feet. “Vijayi Bhav,” He leaves.

Camera focuses on the Kunti Swayamvar. Kuntibhoj gives a speech on how honored he is to host all these Kings. He requests them to respect Kunti’s choice and bless the newly-wed couple at the end. He calls Kunti forward. “I am not going to introduce you to these Kings because you’re going to choose your fate today” Huh? Where does that make sense? IDK where, except StarBharat writers.

“Pitashree,” says Kunti. “I’d like to ask a question to all the Princes present here. I will make my decision on the basis of their answers to the question, if you grant me permission,” “Of course, any girl has the right to ask questions in her Swayamvar. Kings and Princes present here, my daughter wants an answer to a dilemma in her mind. The man whose answer strikes her as right, will be her husband. I hope that causes no one any issues.” “The Prince of Ashwa may have problems, King Bhoj, where there’s a question of wit, the men of his family all fail.” Laughter ensues. A guy looks here and there. I’m nearly certain that no shit like this ever happens in canon. But I have no canon record of Kunti’s swayamvar, so I’ll count it as a fail later. Both the Princes nearly cross swords when they are stopped by someone, who’s obviously Honey Boy. “Do not disrespect the laws of the Swayamvar, Kumar. “Who are you?” “I am the King of Hastinapur, son of Kuruvansh, Pandu” This pompous statement echoes. “I request you to return to your places.” He turns to Kunti. “And I request you to ask the question.” “Maharishi Gautam’s wife, Ahalya had carnal relations with Lord Indra. Why had Lord Ram relieved her of that punishment? Did he not set a bad example for the future with that?” Okay, this is definitely canon fail #33. I am completely sure this wank DID not happen. “The answer to this is easy. A God can forgive any offender.” Says one of the two fighting Princes. IDK which one, and honestly I don’t care. Kunti looks down. Clearly she’s not pleased. “Then why weren’t Ravan and Bali pardoned? That’s partiality!” “Fine. Answer yourself then.” These two guys are fighting again, I see. “The answer is that perhaps He felt Ahalya should be free of it.” “But I think” says another Prince “that Ahalya, as a statue must have regretted what she did.” “No.” This is Pandu. “The truth is that Ahalya did what she did with Indra thinking that he was her husband” (Really? Seems Indra got better, at least a little, with time, unlike..) “Rama was a King, unlike the Rishi and a King needs to know if the offence was an offence or merely a mistake. Whether the intention behind it was wrong or not. If the intention was innocent, then regret and corrective answers are enough. Punishment is not needed. Thinking this, Rama must have pardoned Ahalya.” Melodious music plays as Kunti lifts her eyes, the garland and slowly walks towards Honey Boy, garlanding him, to the sound of conches and the beginning of ‘Mangalam Bhagavan Vishnu…’

Precap: “Where would my son be?” asks Kunti. Uh-oh. I’m already scared. A horse neighs and a boy rushes forward in a chariot. “Where would he be sheltered? Where would my son be? My child, my Karn?” Officially, I’m naming this Kunti Ms. Melodrama, I’d say. Please comment any alternative names. The boy jumps like a very large bat.

[badass-women-league]

TIVALI

17- From Paris to D.C

It was their last night in Paris. Tomorrow they will close the door of their Parisian apartment for the last time.

The apartment was almost empty. Tali and Adam's bedrooms furniture were gone to D.C. Tony and Ziva had to share their bed with the kids for over a week, much to the joy of Tali and Adam. Adam was long gone asleep on his mother's chest. Tony grumbled:

-"Tali, your feet are very cold"

Tali moved her feet away from her father's legs, then she smiled mischievously and touched Tony's legs again.

-"Tali ! Stop !"

Tali giggled.

-"you know what's gonna happen if you don't stop ? The king of tickle is gonna have to crack down on you"

Ziva raised an eyebrow, she was hoping that Tali would fall asleep soon but now that Tony had provoked her, there was no way this would happen and on top of that they will probably wake up Adam during the fight.

Tali giggled again and touched her father's leg with her feet again.

Ziva warned as she saw Tony moving on the bed::

-"Tony don't"

-"It's too late Ziva, She's gonna have to face her fate"

Tony jumped and grabbed the little girl. Tali started to giggle and struggle. Ziva smiled and nonchalantly said:

-"you are going to hurt yourself..."

After long minutes of a tickle fight on the bed, Tony and Tali fell from the bed and collapsed on the floor. They both said:

-"ouch!"

The next thing they heard was Ziva saying:

-"why do I always have to be right"

And Adam started to whine.

Tali and Tony still on the floor looked at each other with a guilty smile.

An hour later, Tali was still not sleeping. Ziva knew that she was obviously anxious about leaving Paris for a new life. Tony was asleep with Adam next to him. Ziva turned to face Tali and whispered: ⠀

-"do you want to talk about it ?" ⠀

The little girl shook her head and Ziva cursed herself in her mind for giving that aspect of her personality to her daughter. Ziva smiled and gave a boop on Tali's nose. It was always making her smile and this time was no different. Ziva started: ⠀

-"I know how hard this is for you Tali. It's going to be a different world and you'll probably feel lost at first. But one of David's biggest strengths is our faculty to adapt to a new situation. And you are a David as much as you are a DiNozzo. I've been through this. I was living my life in Israel, with my work, my friends, my habits and then I had to move to the U.S. I've met new people which were very, VERY different from the people I used to know, and they became my family. Changing is difficult but you should remember one thing: home isn't a place, it's the people you are with. If I never moved to D.C I would not have met Aba, I would not have had my baby girl (she booped her nose again) and I would not be as happy as I am now. You're gonna be fine" ⠀

Tali smiled and asked: ⠀

-"you promise ?"⠀

Ziva raised her pinky finger and said: ⠀

-"I promise" ⠀

Tali locked her pinky finger to her mother's and smiled. She cuddled up to her mother's side and closed her eyes. Her mother had made a promise to her and she was always keeping her promises. She knew she would be fine.

They were finally home. Their new home for their new life. The first night had been pretty rough, especially for the kids. It was a beautiful morning. Tony was moving some boxes around the house under Ziva's instructions. Adam was wrapped in a baby sling on his mother's chest and Tali was helping her father. Ziva asked them to move Tali's stuff to her bedroom and Ziva went to the garage to see what they should deal with next. After quite some time Ziva came back from the garage. She was surprised that neither Tali nor Tony were back already. She heard a sound coming from upstairs, a melody. She rolled her eyes and smiled. She climbed the stairs and opened the door of Tali's new bedroom. Tony was playing guitar while Tali was listening, dancing and clapping around him. She loved it when her father was playing some music for her and he loved to see his little girl dancing. Tony noticed Ziva:

-"Sweet Cheeks, thank you for joining us"

-"what happened to 'moving boxes' ?"

Tony, still playing his song, answered:

-"I wanted to check if my guitar was still tuned. Spoiler alert, it was not, and Tali asked me to play a song for her. I could not resist her David pleading eyes"

Ziva squint her eyes. She was leaning on the door with her arms crossed around her chest. It did not stop Tony from continuing his song, on the contrary he walked to Ziva and used all his charming skills to get a smile from her. It worked. How could she be upset at him for being so charming. Once he had reached Ziva. he placed a kiss on Adam's head, still playing his song and waited for Ziva to give him a kiss. She hesitated and finally granted him with the reward he was waiting for. The day went on until the house was finally starting to look like a functional house and not a cardboard boxes warehouse.

During the evening, someone knocked on their door. Tony opened the door. A man and a woman were standing on his doorstep with a young girl, probably around the age of Tali. They introduced themselves as Tony and Ziva's neighbors. Tony invited them inside and apologized for the mess. Ziva soon joined them with Adam and Tali in the backyard. Tony introduced them:

-"This is my wife, Ziva and this is Tali and Adam. Ziva this is Jerry, his wife Sharon and their daughter Emily"

Ziva greeted them and Tali asked if she could show her bedroom to Emily. After spending the entire afternoon together, the neighbor left. Tony was clearing the backyard dining table, Ziva was looking at him with a smirk. She said:

-"they are nice"

-"yes, Jerry looks like a fun guy. And he loves movies"

-"she's sexy.."

-"what ?"

-"Sharon.. she's a pretty beautiful woman"

-"really ? I haven't noticed"

Ziva threw the wet sponge to his face and did not miss her target:

-"Liar. The old DiNozzo would have drooled over her perfect body"

Tony walked to Ziva and grabbed her waist:

-"oh so this is it.. you are jealous"

-"I am not .."

Tony cut her off:

-".. you are jealous that I might find another woman more attractive than you. You are right, the old DiNozzo would have 'drooled over' her perfect body BUT today's 'very handsome and funny' DiNozzo is married to a very sexy woman and he does not care about any other women because these women cannot compete with the sexiness of my middle-east beauty"

He kissed her with passion to prove his point. The kiss was lasting for long minutes and was becoming more arousing every minute until they heard Tali yielling:

-"IMA ! I think Adam just pooped in his diaper"

Tony and Ziva sighed. The kiss was suddenly less sexy. Tony said:

-"YOU REALLY HAVE TO WORK ON YOUR TIMING TALI"

And Ziva walked inside to take care of Adam.

A few weeks later. The family was now living their life in a beautiful house. They were trying to accommodate to their new life as a family of four living in D.C. The first weeks had been pretty challenging for Tali but Tony and Ziva were doing their best to make things smoother. McGee and Gibbs have helped a lot to get the house ready. Tony was in the living room playing with Adam when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and saw "Elf lord" on it. He answered his phone by saying:

-"how's my favorite Elf Lord doing ?"

-"Hey Tony, you remember when you offered a trumpet and a drum to morgan and john so they could make a lot of noise and drive us crazy ?"

-"yeah ! That was a good one admit it! Your twins are really gifted you should be proud"

McGee felt the irony in Tony's voice. He smiled and said:

-"remember I told you I would get my revenge? That day is today"

-"you think you're going to scare me McHarmless ?"

-"come out and see for yourself"

McGee hung up the phone and Tony looked through the window. McGee was holding a puppy in his arms. Tony's eyes widened. He could not believe it. He rushed out from the house. He still had time to stop this as long as Tali was not aware of it:

-"what is this ?"

McGee smiled:

-"this is your dog"

-"no it's not ! Take it back to where ever you found it"

Tony peaked over his shoulder to be sure that Tali was not around.

-"won't happen"

-"you are taking this to the next level McGee ! You have no idea what's coming for you next if you do that. You can still back out"

-"UNCLE TIMMY !!"

Too late. Tony closed his eyes in despair. McGee walked past Tony and knelt in front of Tali:

-"look what uncle Timmy brought you"

Tali was already in love with the puppy. She petted the puppy's head and turned to her father:

-"oh he is so cute, look Aba"

Tony tried his best to smile:

-"yeah sweetheart, I can see. We really need to find a way to thank uncle Tim in a proper way"

Tali took the dog to show it to her mom and shouted:

-"come on aba ! Ima has to see it"

Before following his daughter Tony looked at McGee and said:

-"you brought this on yourself McDoomed ! We are at war !"

Ziva was sitting on the floor next to the couch in the living room and she was holding Adam in front of her to help him stand on his feet. Adam was focused on the little puppy that was chewing on the coffee table leg far away from him. Tony and Tali walked in, they were apparently trying to fix a disagreement:

-"no Tali, Mister Chewie is a dog and dogs do not sleep in children's beds."

-"please Aba, he is so little"

-"I said no Tali. We bought a very beautiful, comfortable and very expensive dog bed for Chewie so he's gonna use it, like every other dog before him"

Tali turned to her mom and complained in Hebrew. Tony continued:

-"hebrew isn't gonna save you. Ima agrees with me."

He turned to Ziva, so did Tali. Ziva saw her daughter's pleading face and her husband face asking for backup. Tali's face was breaking her heart but she knew that Tony was right. She had to support him on this:

-"aba is right Tali. Chewie has to learn to sleep in his own bed"

As the conversation went on, Adam let go of Ziva's hand and walked to the puppy all by himself. Ziva could not believe it. Her baby was taking his first step. She stopped the argument between Tali and Tony and said:

-"Tony look !"

He could not believe it either. His son was walking and he had no idea that this meant that from now on,  a brand new world of mischief was opened to Adam. Tony knelt a few feet away from Adam and called him:

-"come on buddy, come see Aba"

Adam looked at his father and turned his attention back on the puppy. He walked to the dog and collapsed right before him. Tony looked at the dog with threatening eyes:

-"you !"

The next morning when Tony walked to Tali's room to wake her up he was not even surprised to find Chewie sleeping in Tali's arms on her bed. His first thought was that this child was as stubborn as her mother and it actually made him smile.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The DiNozzos were still asleep. Only the sound of birds could be heard. Tony woke up 30 minutes later. He was thirsty. He looked at Ziva next to him. She was still deeply asleep. He had a furious desire to wake her up with kisses on her neck to enjoy this sunday morning before the kids wake up. But he is still thirsty. He will try that option once he had quenched his thirst. He walked downstairs, quietly enough not to wake up the kids, which would have been very unfortunate for his sexy awakening plan. While getting downstairs he could hear the sound of someone cutting wood with a saw. He thought 'what kind of psychopath cuts woods at 8am on a Sunday'. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water and walk to the window. He almost spit his sip out when he saw that the psychopath cutting woods was actually Gibbs. He cursed in his mind as he saw his bedroom plans going away. He walked out of the house. Gibbs raised his head to Tony and said:

-"nice outfit DiNozzo"

Tony looked at his pajama and said:

-"yes this is what normal people are wearing at this time of the day. Please tell me you are not building a boat on my driveway"

Gibbs smirked. Tony continued:

-"what is all of this ?"

Gibbs pointed at the tree in front of the house and said:

-"my grand daughter asked me to build her a treehouse, I am building a treehouse.."

Tony wanted to argue about the fact that it was very early for such a task but Gibbs cut him off by handing him a saw. Tony got the message. He sighed and grabbed some wooden planks.

When Ziva woke up she was surprised not to find her husband next to her. He was usually the last one to wake up and sometimes she had to threaten him to sprinkle him with a glass of water to get him out of bed. She heard a hammer blow followed by a curse coming from a familiar voice. She got out of bed and looked through the window. Tony was sitting on a branch of their front yard tree, a hammer in one hand and his thumb in his mouth. No doubt that he missed his target a few seconds earlier. She heard babbling coming from the bedroom next door. She walked inside Adam bedroom and found him standing on his crib, with the help of the wooden fence. He smiled as he saw his mother:

-"daddy woke you up with his loud voice ? you want to go see him ?"

Adam babbled again.

-"let's go make some coffee for him"

She walked downstairs and was welcomed by Chewie who was running around the house. She walked past Chewie's bed and saw one of Tony's most expensive pair of shoes in it. She looked at Chewie and said:

-"you are going to be in big trouble for chewing his favorite shoes"

Chewie was looking at her, with his tongue hanging out and his wagging tail. She poured two mugs with hot coffee and walked out of the house holding Adam by the hand to help him walk. As he saw them Tony said:

-"hey look who's there ! My little walking monster"

Gibbs welcomed her with a kiss on her forehead, Tony jumped from the branch:

-"coffee ?" She asked.

Tony answered positively as he took a mug from her hand and kissed her right after. She smiled back at him and sweped some sawdust away from his hair.

Tony took Adam in his arms and said:

-"wanna help aba build a treehouse for your big sister ? She's gonna love it"

They returned to their work after the coffee break. A few moments later and after a few more smashed fingers, Tali walked out of the house still in her pajamas. As she saw the tree house she screamed and rushed to Gibbs. She hugged him and thanked him. Tony jumped again from his branch and said:

-"what about me ? Can I have a hug ? I helped him building it ! And I've almost lost all my fingers because of it"

Tali laughed at the funny and childish behavior of her father and gave him a hug too.

It was around noon. The tree house was almost finished. Tali was playing with Chewie around the front yard. Ziva walked out from the house and said:

-"Time for our brave sunday workers to take a lunch break. Go wash your hands, lunch is ready"

Tony and Gibbs looked at each other with an amused smile.

-"yes Ma'am" answered Gibbs.

10 minutes later Tony walked out from the bathroom and found Ziva and Tali standing and smiling in the living room in front of Chewie's bed. They were looking pretty weird. He asked:

-"what's wrong ?"

Ziva faked to be surprised:

-"what do you mean 'what's wrong' nothing's wrong ? Why do you want something to be wrong ?"

Gibbs joined them. He looked behind Ziva's back and saw the shoes still in Chewie's bed. He smiled. Tony continued:

-"you look weird! What is it ?"

He knew Ziva and Tali were trying to hide something from him. He gently pushed them away and saw the crime scene.

-"no ! Nononononon ! Not my favorite shoes!"

-"these are just shoes Tony ! And if you had not left them lying around he would never have found them"

-"I'm gonna kill McGee !"

They left Tony mourning his shoes and everyone then gathered around lunch in the backyard. It was a beautiful and sunny Sunday. A perfect day to share family time.

During the evening, Gibbs and Tony finished the tree house and Tali hosted the big opening ceremony, with the ribbon, the scissors and the solemn speech. She was such a clown sometimes. She was such a DiNozzo.

[amyscascadingtabs]

all i know is i wanna be here with you from now on

One month old babies are really great at sleeping at night, said no one ever.

Jake has a vague memory of a time where their bed was the perfect size for both him and Amy, but he’ll admit said memory is growing hazier by the day.

To be fair, they weren't planning on letting their newborn sleep in their bed. They had a clear and structured plan, outlined in the first of many parenting binders, of keeping their baby in her cot right next to Amy’s side of the bed for the first few months before transferring her over to her own room.

Then they actually became parents.

To a child that at exactly one month and three days of age refuses to fall asleep anywhere but on one of her parents, prefers sleeping that way, and will - if they're lucky - sometimes accept her baby nest at night, provided it's right in the middle of the bed with one parent on each side of it.

No matter how cozy it is to have her near, Jake has been doing an awful lot of googling on the pricing and reviews of king size beds lately.

He supposes a bigger bed wouldn't help him with the other issue keeping him from sleep. It's not been more than an hour since he kissed his wife goodnight and crept underneath the covers, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead and watching her yawn in reaction before closing his eyes, and he's already wide awake after Leah woke him up screaming bloody murder right in his ear twenty minutes ago.

She's eaten now - to be fair, he agrees with her that being hungry’s the worst - but instead of going straight back to sleep like she can usually do after night feeds, she just won’t sleep. They’ve burped her, changed a diaper and played the white noise music which seems to always be sounding through their home nowadays, but the only thing that’s keeping their newborn from outright screaming is one parent walking around holding her to their chest, lightly bouncing her.

It’s not their first case of nights like these in their first, intense month of parenthood, but in contrast to the previous nights, Jake goes back to work tomorrow.

“You have to sleep”, Amy protested when he offered to do the soothing of crying baby. “You can’t go back to work without having slept.”

He protested back, arguing that he’s been sleep-deprived at work plenty throughout his career - the time he made Charles pretend to be a dead body and sprayed ketchup over his friend only one of many occasions - but she wouldn’t have it. She left the room with Leah for a few minutes, coming back with a seemingly sleeping baby whom she successfully transferred to the baby nest.

That was two minutes ago, not enough time for Jake to fall asleep again but apparently enough for Amy, and when the wailing starts anew, his wife straight out groans in frustration.

“I’ll get her”, he offers then, already sitting up in bed and lifting Leah to his chest the way that has become second nature by now. Amy mumbles something inaudible, likely attempting to stop him again, but he's left the room before she has the chance to do anything but go back to the sleep she so desperately deserves.

He walks a few laps around the living room before his daughter’s desperate cries subside, hushing and stroking her back through the purple striped pajamas until her face is no longer red from exertion, until she's quietly fussing rather than screaming her little lungs out.

For a seven-and-a-half-pound person, their kid sure has a powerful voice.

“It would be a lot easier if you could talk, you know”, he whispers to her when they move from the living room to the nursery. “Tell us what’s wrong. Think you can work on that?”

The request gives him another upset cry. He reads it as a negative response.

Jake sits down with her in the comfortable combined arm and rocking chair the Santiago family gracefully gifted to them, hoping she’ll accept the slight change and taking a deep breath of relief when she does. One of her fists grab onto his t-shirt, and she’s not falling asleep, but she’s calming down.

Right now he’s ironic when he asks her to speed up growing. Though he could pee his pants with excitement over what it will be like to have a kid that walks and talks and sleeps more than two hours at once, time is swooping by at an alarming rate as is. He’s been a dad for one, short, intense month, and already Leah is an inch longer, a pound and a half heavier, a little less terrifyingly fragile in his arms. She sleeps and eats at what vaguely resembles a schedule, has mastered the art of nursing without making both Amy and herself cry and is starting to accept him feeding her with a bottle. Every day there seems to be a new noise, a new grimace, a new way to move her arms and accidentally hit herself in the face, and every day his already overpowering love for her grows.

Jake's almost about to consider his mission of calming a fussy baby successful when he notices her doing a too-sharp inhale. Barely able to brace himself for the inevitable, he listens to her cry out another time, heartbreaking and loud enough for neighbors to hear. He stands up with her again, rocking, trying to see if the combination of movement and the unicorn lovey from her crib can make her relax. He then fights the temptation to make a full-on victory gesture when it, eventually, does. There's a display of framed pictures hanging over the crib, and he stops in front of it, watching them without giving up the gentle rocking.

Two ultrasound pictures - one from the first time they got to see and hear a fluttering heartbeat on the screen, one from later on when they could see a spine and legs and arms and the cutest little nose in profile. A black and white newborn picture, Leah just hours old, in between. A selfie they took with one of the positive pregnancy tests, grinning at each other in disbelief. One picture each of them holding her, looking equally in awe of this little person that's now keeping them up at night. A piece of quote art Jake found on Etsy, saying you are the best thing that's ever been mine.

He has to get up for work in five hours, and even if he does get any sleep tonight it’s not going to be enough - yet as he hears a somewhat content sigh from Leah and sees her yawn, he can’t make himself care. Though he was well aware he’d love his kid to the moon and back, he worried and fretted about whether he could have inherited his own father’s crappy parenting skills. He’s still unsure about a lot of things, but as he sits back down in the armchair and draws up his legs so she can lay against his thighs, and she stretches out her arms over her head to then hit herself on the nose when they come back, gasping with surprise, he’s certain a lack of love is not the problem.

“I hope you know we love you”, he tells her, trying to flatten the dark hair that prefers sticking up like a mohawk. “It’s hard to know sometimes. But I really hope so.”

“I love you”, he assures her another time, her hands gripping onto both of his index fingers as he all but attacks her with kisses across her belly and face. She scrunches her nose and forehead slightly, but accepts, used to it at this point. “Your mom loves you, your grandparents, all your friends - aunt Rosa and aunt Gina, uncle Terry, your uncle Charles probably loved you before you even existed at all, grandpa Holt…” Jake smiles at the memory of his captain visiting them in the hospital their second day there, remembering how he’d been impressed by his daughter for putting an actual smile on the usually so dead-pan man’s face in mere seconds.

“You’re a very loved kid.”

Leah grunts to this. He decides to interpret it as agreement.

When she starts fussing yet another time, he sings to her. It’s mostly Taylor Swift songs, mixed with a mellow version of I Want It That Way - whatever’s playing inside his head in the middle of the night. Even with his mediocre singing voice, singing to her has become one of his favorite things to do just because he adores her reaction to it. She'll stare at him in awe, take on an expression like she's actually listening, sometimes trying to wave and kick to the melody.

Had someone told him a year ago that this is why’d he be awake at 2.30 a.m., Jake's certain he would have laughed, but now it seems the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey there.”

He's halfway through an acapella version of Long Live, Leah's eyes opening and closing like she's about to fall asleep but stopping herself from doing so, when he hears Amy's voice. She's leaning against the doorframe, wistful smile on her lips looking at them, and he wonders quietly to himself how on Earth she manages to make one month postpartum and the old oversized NYPD shirt she uses for pajamas look a million dollars. “Is she sleeping yet?”

“Nah. World’s too interesting.” He jokefully narrows his eyes at Leah, saying the next words with over-the-top enthusiasm. “But you know what happens when you don’t sleep? You get overtired! And I’m pretty sure you enjoy that even less than we do!”

She gives him a blank stare, and if she’d been a snarky teenager and not a one-month-old infant, Jake imagines she’d be saying something like yeah, so what and stomp off to slam her bedroom door.

Amy snorts before sitting down on the long-pile rug next to the armchair.  “You should go to sleep”, she coerces, squeezing his thigh. “Both of you, but especially the one who has work tomorrow. I’m serious.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine, Ames. Really. I’ll miss her like hell tomorrow, anyway.”

“I get it.” She nods, caressing one of Leah’s fists. “But you’ll be okay. I’ll text you updates.”

“Every half hour?”

“What she’s doing, how she’s doing, pictures, film clips”, she assures him. “All of it. Plus you’ll be home early.”

“Still too long”, he mumbles.

“I know.”

Leah begins to whimper, and their focuses shift instantly back to her. Jake stands up with her, starting the rocking and bouncing anew for what feels like the twentieth time that night.

“She's going to miss you too, you know”, Amy whispers. “We both are.”

“Well, I’ll miss you two more, so I'm winning.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a soft affection to it. He supposes she is the one person who could tell him she loves him with an eye-roll of all things.

Leah yawns, her little hands moving again in an attempt to grip his t-shirt, and then she finds one of his arms and it's like he's being carefully hugged by a twenty-inch, not-yet-eight-pounds body. It’s the actual sweetest thing he's seen tonight.

He tears up; of course he tears up. That's pretty much what he does in life now, but it's okay, because Amy's doing the same watching them, wiping hormone-fuelled tears away with the back of her hand.

“The only thing better than her”, she says, voice hushed, “is seeing you with her. It's the best thing I know.”

“I just want to do a good job.”

“You already are.”

“I have to leave her for a full day tomorrow. ”

“You're going to be okay, Jake.”

Easy for you to say, he wants to argue. You get to stay home all day looking after our daughter and reading through study material for the lieutenant’s exam. But 2.30 a.m. is not the peak time to be jealous of their daughter’s physical dependence on Amy, so he stays quiet.

The whole room is near silent, save the white noise machine still playing from its place in the shelf, when he realizes.

“Ames, I think she's sleeping.”

Leah's eyes are closed, the fussing finally ceased, and he's scared to say the words out loud in case she’ll be screaming against the next second, but she doesn't and Amy's eyes widen in awe.

“God, you're amazing.” She stands up, kissing his cheek and giving the snoozing infant the amazed, infatuated look he's seen near daily on his wife's face for a month now. “Now let's go back to sleep before she wakes. Quick.”

Amy's out like a light soon as her head hits the pillow. He stays awake a few more minutes, watching his daughter, the way her little chest rises and falls, the way her miniature fingers twitch when she's dreaming.

Tomorrow, he's going to go do the job he's actually hired for, the job which used to be his everything at one point in time and the job he has missed, if only slightly, this month.

He's almost dreading it, this ocean of time away from the person who gave him the job title seeming much more important to him now, but he's doing it anyway.

He has to save up for that king-size bed somehow.